Latkes are like children
It was our first time at the iconic Monkey Bar in Manhattan- music from the thirties, the sprawling mural of Jazz Age musicians, actors, and writers playing cards. The vibe of a private club rich in history, stories, and adventure. Who knew it would be the place for a new beginning for us?
Our millennial kids arrived as we were seated in our bold red leather private booth. Server Dan presented us with four glasses of champagne on a silver tray. Thinking there was some mistake, I thanked him politely, but my words were overridden by our son, exclaiming, “NO, it’s for us. We have news to share; we are expecting.”
Months passed, weekly updates from a website that measures growth based on fruits and vegetables, and ultra-sounds. There was not much we could do hundreds of miles away but wait- until we learned about the 2-hour online grandparenting course. So, we signed up.
Our thinking bubbles were filled with memories of cribs filled with babies on their tummies under hand-knitted baby blankets with matching crib bumpers, plush toys, a mobile, and a copy of Dr. Spock nearby. With anticipation we wondered what could possibly be new for us to learn? EVERYTHING!
Our own parents and grandparents managed without advanced degrees, but we were determined to graduate from this program, frame the diploma we would receive, and prove to our children that we are capable and equipped for the challenge.
We prepared for the session: reviewing websites suggested by Liz, the nurse leading the discussion. Six eager, perspective grandparents appeared on the Zoom ready to learn. We were open to reframing our thinking to dimly lit delivery rooms, battery operated votive candles, doulas, access to social media, swaddled babies on their backs in empty cribs.
The course was geared toward developing and maintaining healthy relationships with one’s adult children rather than safety issues, CPR, or technological advances regarding car seats and strollers. We learned about showing unconditional love, listening, respecting their autonomy, space and time. We discussed initiating conversations on our kids’ terms and began to think about what our roles as grandparents would look like?
There was a list of Good Advice: affirm, validate, be patient, support, offer, follow our kids’ leads, take photos but do not share them online. Praise, reassure, and encourage. But our biggest take-away “Zip, it,” use one’s zipper emoji. This would indeed be a transition!
A few weeks prior to the baby’s due date I faced my first major zipper emoji test. Our son was making potato lakes for a Hanukkah celebration. I hung out with him in the kitchen. As is our tradition, we opened a bottle of red wine.
He was prepared- all the ingredients were laid out on the counter- potatoes, onions, matzoh mean, eggs, salt, oil. The Cuisinart was plugged in, two large frying pans filled with oil were on the stove, and a paper toweling was set awaiting the freshly fried latkes. I stepped back, raised my glass to the chef as he put the process in motion.
My thinking bubble began to grow. What?? He does not peel the potatoes- he says extra nutrients- He quarters and places them using the shredding blade? He squeezes the potatoes through cheesecloth? He adds the extra potato starch at the bottom of the bowl- who needs more potato starch?
I peel my potatoes. I soak them in water to maintain their color. I use the slicing blade and squeeze the potatoes through a colander. Everything is different. Didn’t he learn anything from me?
I took extra sips of wine, commented about the rich aroma in the kitchen, our son’s unflappability, and his ability to multitask and plow through ten pounds of potatoes. I followed his lead. When he asked for help, I gave it. When he didn’t, I took another sip of wine.
“Too salty, he asked?” “Maybe, Dad and I aren’t used to salt,” I responded. “Too crispy,” he said. “Enhances the flavor, I responded. He pointed to the first latke out of the pan- “That one’s for you Mom.” I knew I had passed Liz’s “Zip it” rule.
Our son actually did learn a lot from me! Taking his knowledge and experiences, he incorporated family traditions and scaffolded them. The ingredients were the same, but his process was different- his result, even better than mine!
And I learned from our son! Rather than questioning or offering my many years of experience, wisdom, or opinions, I stepped back, watched, encouraged, and supported. My joy came from watching him create latkes in his own way. Latke results, like children, improve over time. After all, isn’t that how our world becomes a better place?
Our grandbaby is due soon. I am relieved there will not be too many more opportunities for tests. I believe I am as prepared as I will ever be to let our children develop their loving relationship and learn about this new life they are bringing into the world. We wait with great wonder, hopes, and dreams for them and for our grandbaby. This their baby, not ours.
Grandparenting will be our greatest gift. But in the words of Alex Haley: “Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.”
L’ dor v’dor- from generation to generation! L’Chaim!
