Life's circle closes in on grandma

Simply Sleight, by Kari Sleight

"It's the Circle of Life and it moves us all through hope, through faith and love till we find our place on a path unwinding in the circle … The Circle of Life." -- The Lion King.

I admit it, I'm a huge Disney fan, even though the admission has subjected me to ridicule on more than one occasion. I was able to keep my "addiction" hidden for many years, cloaked in the rationalization of "having to" watch the shows with my growing children. My husband started suspecting a deeper reason when our youngest child entered her teen years and no longer sat next to me, glued to the television set every Sunday evening around the time "The Wonderful World of Disney" was scheduled to start.

I also have to admit that Simba, from The Lion King, seemed able to grasp the concept and understanding of the "Circle of Life" theory much quicker than I, but, in my defense, I've also come to believe the theory has a way of sneaking up on us, dropping subtle hints for many years, until one day "Wham!" it hits you like a bolt of lightening! You've become your mother.

Looking back through the years, I suppose my first encounter with this theory was a few months before my 30th birthday. To say the mere thought of turning 30 was extremely depressing would be akin to saying King Kong was merely a monkey. I could vividly remember my own mother turning 30 and thinking about how old she was getting. I worried about how much time I had left to spend with her, surely she couldn't be around much longer at her age. Fortunately, 30-plus years later, I continue to not only enjoy my mother's company, but my maternal grandmother's, too.

The next omen I recall in my circle of life journey happened when my children started entering the "trying" years, those years where they steadfastly believe their parents must be the "most stupid people on earth and their friends are so smart, 'cause they know everything.'" My husband, our daughter and I were having a discussion on how "unfair" her midnight curfew was, especially since all her friends got to stay out later and had parents who were "cool" and understanding, when the words, "So if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?" tumbled out of my mouth. I couldn't believe it, in the blink of an eye, I had become my mother! How did this happen? How could this happen?!

Then my daughters married, became mothers, I became a grandmother and the gap in the circle closed a bit more.

Our oldest daughter gave birth to a bright-eyed baby girl, Ramiah, in July 2001. Although she and her family live out of state, we keep in close phone contact, sometimes several times a week. She relates stories of Ramiah's latest antics and often laments on the trials of having a toddler who is entering the "Terrible Twos." I smile, knowingly, thinking back on similar conversations I had with my own mother. My daughter is expecting a second child this October and I find a small comfort in having an inkling of what the contents of our future conversations may consist of -- from the difficulties in managing an infant while tending to the needs of an energetic toddler who doesn't know the meaning of the word "patience" and doesn't yet know how to use a dictionary to find the meaning to the high cost of raising a family.

Our youngest daughter further blessed us in April of last year with the birth of our grandson, Ahstyn. Once again, I felt the squeeze as the circle gap narrowed a bit more. We're fortunate in that she and her family also call the Valley home, providing my husband and I with a lot of quality grandparenting time. It also gives her the opportunity to pick up the phone or drive out to see me every day, if needed. On one of those visits, she was relating to me her struggle to balance night school, a day job, a young baby and a husband. She told me she was discussing the demands and a more equitable workload with her husband when it suddenly dawned on her that she was sounding "just like her mother," and it scared her. I simply smiled and gave her a knowing nod; I know exactly how she feels.

Exercising my grandparental rights of spoiling my grandchildren by allowing them to eat M&Ms for breakfast if they choose and letting them walk across the furniture, I hear my daughters' exasperated voices proclaiming, "You never let us get away with that when we were young." Hmmm … I think I've heard that somewhere before. I believe the circle is nearly complete.

Kari Sleight is the publisher of the Frontiersman.