When grandparents help with childcare: Why it shouldn’t be taken for granted (and what no one tells you)
I canceled my 3pm client check-in last month after my client’s kid came down with strep, so I drove home 45 minutes earlier than usual. I grabbed a pack of lemon poppyseed muffins from the grocery store bakery on the way, planning to surprise the kids. I fumbled my keys quiet enough that no one heard me come in, and when I pushed the door open, I stopped short. Bluey was blaring from the TV, the living room rug was covered in half-done puzzle pieces and a crust of grilled cheese crumbs, and my mom was slumped on the end of the couch, eyes closed, head tilted back. She was rubbing her left hip— the one that acts up when she’s on her feet too long— and sighed so quiet I almost missed it: “God, I just need a sit that isn’t interrupted every two minutes.” Right on cue, my 4-year-old Lila yelled from the kitchen “GRANDMA I NEED MORE JUICE” and my mom snapped upright, smoothing her hair and pasting on a smile before I even stepped further into the room.
I’ve relied on my mom for childcare three days a week for almost three years, ever since I went back to full-time work after Lila was born. My husband travels two weeks out of every month for his job, so without her, I’d be stuck paying for full-time daycare that eats 60% of my salary. I know how lucky I am. I bring her a latte every Sunday when we go over for dinner, I pay for her gel manicure once a month, I tell all my friends how much of a gift this is. I’d never say I take her for granted out loud. But that day, standing in my entryway with a warm bag of muffins in my hand, I realized I’d been doing exactly that: assuming she was fine, assuming the schedule we set three years ago still works for her the same way it works for me.
You see a million posts online reminding you that grandparent help isn’t a given, that you shouldn’t take it for granted, that it’s a gift not a right. That’s all true. But what no one talks about is the messy middle that comes after you’ve said thank you a hundred times. The part where everyone is too nice to say what they actually need, because no one wants to rock the good thing you’ve got going.
That night after the kids were in bed, I made tea and sat down with my mom at the kitchen table and brought up what I’d seen that afternoon. I told her she didn’t have to pretend to be fine for me, that I’d rather adjust things than have her hurting and exhausted. She teared up a little, which surprised me, and admitted she’d been wanting to say something for six months. Her doctor had told her she needed to cut back on the early mornings and constant activity to keep her hip pain under control. She’d given up her weekly 8am walk with her retired friends because she has to be at my house by 7:30. Most days, by 3pm she’s so sore she can barely climb the stairs to her own house when she’s done. She said she hated saying anything because she knows how much I need the help, and she loves being the one to watch the kids grow up. She just needed a little less.
I’d spent so long feeling guilty for taking her help that I never stopped to ask what she actually needed. I assumed that because she offered, she could do the full schedule I needed forever. We didn’t do any big, formal discussions or anything, we just pulled out a piece of notebook paper and wrote down what each of us couldn’t budge on. I went first: I needed at least 24 hours of coverage a week to hit my work deadlines, I couldn’t shift all my meetings to after 3pm most weeks, and I needed a 48 hour heads up if she couldn’t make a day so I could rearrange. Then she wrote hers: she needed one full morning off a week for her walking group and doctor appointments, she needed to leave by 3pm instead of 4pm on two days a week to rest her hip, and she needed one full weekend a month with no childcare requests, no matter what.
That was all it took to adjust. I looked up the mother’s day out program at the local church down the street— it’s $40 a day, way cheaper than full-time daycare, and they take kids 3 to 5. We signed Lila up for that one Friday morning a week, that covers my mom’s free morning. Then I texted the 16 year old down the street who babysits for our neighbor, and she comes over from 3pm to 4pm on the two days my mom leaves early. It’s $15 an hour, which I can cover because I’m not paying full daycare anyway. I added a recurring “Grandma’s Weekend Off” event to my work calendar, and lined up a backup sitter for that weekend so I never have to ask her to fill in, even if an emergency comes up.
The kids adjusted faster than I thought they would. Lila comes home every Friday covered in glitter from her art projects and talks nonstop about her new friends. My older son, 6 year old Jake, begs the teen sitter to do cartwheels with him in the backyard when she comes. My mom doesn’t sneak quiet rests on the couch anymore— she just takes them. Last week, I got home early and she was sitting on the front porch drinking iced tea while the kids watched a half hour of Bluey before I got in. She didn’t apologize for it, and I didn’t expect her to. I used to think good childcare meant someone was entertaining the kids every single minute, but that’s a standard that exhausts me, let alone a 67 year old with a bad hip.
The thing is, all those reminders not to take grandparent help for granted are right, but they usually stop at “say thank you and bring gifts”. Gratitude isn’t just a card or a coffee once a week. It’s being willing to change the arrangement when it stops working for the person giving the help. It doesn’t make you entitled to adjust the terms, and it doesn’t make grandparents selfish for saying they need less. Before we changed things, I was always walking on eggshells, worried I was asking too much, and she was always tired, worried she was letting me down if she said she couldn’t do something. Now it’s just honest.
It’s not perfect. Last month, I had a last minute work conference that needed me to stay two extra hours, and my mom already had a lunch planned with her college roommate. I didn’t guilt her, she didn’t apologize, we just called the teen sitter and she stayed late. Some months, the extra childcare costs stretch my budget thinner than I’d like, and some weeks my mom still has to cover an extra day when my husband’s flight gets canceled. We’re still figuring it out, month by month. But these days, when I come home, I don’t find my mom hiding how she feels. She’s either playing with the kids, or resting on the porch, and it’s all out in the open. That’s the part of grandparent help no one tells you: the best thank you you can give is letting it change, as everyone’s needs change.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » When grandparents help with childcare: Why it shouldn’t be taken for granted (and what no one tells you)