Grey hair and apron?

Here’s one of the nubs of this exploration: how does our society see grandmothers, and what will I make of it? Maureen says I don’t fit the profile; what’s the profile?

The general image of a grandmother is probably of a smiley, grey-haired, slightly plump woman wearing a flowery dress and an apron, with ever-open arms and freshly-baked biscuits in the cupboard. It’s a lovely image, but whose grandmother is really like that?

The grandmothers I know are lively, busy, purposeful. They have full lives and aren’t defined by their grandchildren. My guess is that they’re better grandparents as a result.

Both of my grandmothers were smiley and owned tempting biscuit tins. But when I was growing up they were both working full-time; they wore smart suits to work (slacks at the weekend); and only one had grey hair.

I enjoyed discovering Raging Grannies (http://raginggrannies.org/) - a non-violent protest group, exposing corruption and opposing war. They dress ‘like innocent little old ladies’ – as they describe it, ‘outrageous flowery hats, and colourful costumes including aprons and rose-coloured running shoes’. I can see it would work on a demo (and I’m all for a good demo) but I’m not sure it’s the image I’m going to adopt when I’m a grandmother.

What was your grandmother like? What sort of grandmother are you?

Breathe in

At first, I didn’t have any strong feelings about the idea of having a grandchild. But when I began to imagine holding a small baby - that amazing, soft baby smell came to me. A gentle, alluring smell. It haunts babies whether they have just been towelled dry after a warm bath, or whether you’ve just peeled off an unfeasibly foul nappy. The memory of that smell became an anticipation, followed by others – soft baby blankets, shaky toddler steps. So, I remember a smell, and I’m now quietly but definitely excited.

New photograph album

A full six months to go before this baby is due to be born, and it’s first photograph is being sent to admiring friends and relations.

I was expecting to see one of those scratchy, 2-dimension ultrasound scans photographs, at some time, later in the year. But suddenly I can see not only one of those but also an incredible, clear sepia-coloured photo – nearly-formed ears, little skinny arms, bony bottom, legs relaxed. A real miracle.

This is another generational, continental difference: I didn’t have any scan, - I wasn’t offered one, and if I had been, I probably wouldn’t have wanted it. More than that, I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to know what the baby’s sex was. Somehow, it didn’t seem important to know, until the birth.

But these parents couldn’t wait to find out – and the hospital was glad to oblige. So we already know ‘it’ is a she!