I’m the Wrong Person: A Grandmother’s Lament 

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wrong person separation anxiety providence moms blog

My daughter asked me to just sit on the bed to make sure her sleeping baby didn’t roll over and fall off. The middle child was still asleep, and she needed to drive the oldest to school.

It was a pretty sweet assignment. I took off my shoes, arranged the pillows, pulled up a blanket, and checked out my Twitter feed.

When the baby stirred, I got ready to inhale that baby head smell, pat her bum, and cuddle. My grand-daughter is very social and has the world’s widest smile. She moved back and forth, rolled, and looked up at me. And wailed. Piteously. Loudly. Her face crumpled.

I sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m the wrong person.”


Once upon a time, I was the right person. I was the magic person. My babies loved me more than anything. Or anyone. When I picked them up, they miraculously stopped crying. When I left the room, they were inconsolable.

I wasn’t expecting that. I sorta thought babies were always these continuous crying creatures. But boy, did I love it. I mean, I’m sure that I had been loved before. My mother, my father, aunts, and grandparents all loved me. My husband loved me. But. They all also frequently offered feedback. Their love never felt unconditional.

My babies, though–it was pretty much the best high I had ever experienced. (I mean, it was great for a while. Until they became teenagers.)

It was kind of hard on my husband. You see, he had always been the kid guy. Kids just loved him. He loved kids. I found the whole kid thing kind of annoying. But my own babies loved me. Unconditionally. I was the sun and the moon and the stars.

Also, it was very convenient to please them. Pull up the shirt, attach, and all was well.

I miss those days. I mean, not really. I mean, actually, I’m really glad to be able to sleep through the night and only have kids in my life when I want them there. I watch my kids with their kids and am eternally grateful that I don’t have to go through all that anymore. I couldn’t. I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know how I did it.

But now, I am, clearly, almost always, the wrong person.

“Where’s Grandpa!?” they demand whenever they see me. (They know a kid guy when they see one…)

“Uncle Josh!” they cheer whenever they see him.  

And they’ll hardly even look in my direction when their parents are around. The baby always smiles broadly at me from her mother’s lap. I suspect that she’s actually gloating. (Ha, ha, you can’t get me…) If I happen to be holding her and her mother leaves the room, she wails. Loudly. Piteously. 


That morning, I picked her up. We do know each other. We do have a routine. I cradle her head, rock her back and forth, and whisper…shh..shh..shh… shh..shh…over and over. The familiarity calms her and she falls back asleep. I return to my Twitter feed. I’m the wrong person, but I’ll do.

I’m not sure how I feel about all this. Of course, it doesn’t matter how I feel about it. I can’t morph into their

wrong person Providence Moms Blog
I am frequently the recipient of this look.

parents. I’m not my husband. I’m not that kid guy. I’m not even Uncle Josh (who seems to take after his father…)

But that morning, I did get the baby back to sleep. My daughter didn’t come home to a wailing infant. My daughter still loves me. So I’ve got that…although perhaps not unconditionally. And definitely not without the occasional feedback. Or eye-roll. 

But there’s always a silver lining.

Later that morning, the middle child needed help.

“Wipe me!” he demanded from the bathroom.

“Umm…want me to wipe him?” I tentatively asked my daughter.

“Mommy!!!” he immediately cried. (Little ears never fail.) “Mommy wipe me!!”

I shrugged and turned up my palms… “Gee…I guess I’m just the wrong person…”

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Carol-Ane Woodard
Carol-Ane Woodard was born in Rehoboth, which is in Massachusetts, but really should be a part of Rhode Island. She grew up taking the Trailways bus into Providence and shopping at the Warwick Mall. She currently lives in Foxboro, Massachusetts with her husband of of 38 years, Paul Woodard, but she misses coffee cabinets, red clam chowder, and hot wieners, and she still considers Providence to be her home city. Carol-Ane graduated from the University of Massachusetts in 1973 with a degree in sociology. She minored in business at U Mass Dartmouth and took a job for the FDIC as a bank examiner. She worked there for 30 years and retired 10 years ago. Other than her 3 children and 5 grandchildren, her hobbies include reading, reading, and more reading, interrupted only by hikes in the woods, Freecell, and knitting. Although her Linkedin profile lists her as a stay-at-home grandmother, Carol-Ane actually has a rather nervous disposition and is frightened by small children. Nevertheless, she persists.