My parents visited this past weekend. They adore Elle. She adores them. She will have precious little (blood) family as she grows up, so I want her to spend as much time as possible with her grandparents for as long as she can. My parents are not young, so all these moments are precious.
They don’t live in the area, unfortunately. I never thought I would want my parents nearby, but now I do-- for Elle, not for me. While they are still healthy, I’d love for them to be able to spend time with her. They talk about moving but just haven’t done what they need to do; some of that is because of the economy, and some of that is that I think they are in a bit of denial about the fact that, if they want to really know Elle, they will need to live in a major metro area that they (well, my dad, at least) doesn’t much care for. I'm not leaving anytime soon. This is where my support network is, and barring some kind of relocation relative to work, this is where I’ll be for a while.
(Someday, I’ll be in Colorado. But that’s a long way away, and my parents will be gone by then.)
What is funny is that when I talk to one of them about it, they each blame the other. And they believe it. Heh.
So they come, and they adore Elle (in their own ways, anyway; my confusion with how my mother interacts with her is a topic for another post). And I end up doing all the heavy lifting to enable them to spend time with her.
I guess that’s my role, maybe? I guess I don’t feel like they’re guests, exactly; they’re family, and I’m used to pitching in when I’m a guest in their home. That same thing doesn’t happen here, although my mother will usually cook at least one meal, which is nice.
I do wish I'd had a child when I was younger. I wasn't ready, though. And if I'd done this five years ago, I wouldn't have Elle; there's a reason for everything. Another advantage of younger parenthood is that my own parents would have been younger, around for more of Elle's life, and probably able to do more with her.
Regrets are natural, but a waste of time in the long run. You can't go back. I don't want to, anyway.