I Thought Being a Grandma Would Be Easy — I Was Wrong

I thought becoming a grandma would be all treats, cuddles, and sending the kids home at bedtime. I pictured cookies in the oven and knitting the perfect blanket that would be treasured forever.

Instead, grandparenting for me came with rules, compromises, and more drama than I bargained for.

My rules aren’t their rules

Take the ring pop. That glittering, oversize jewel on a plastic band is my go-to treat. But in my grandkids’ home, sugar and red dye were not allowed. I thought that rule surely did not apply when they were at my place. Turns out it did.

I could sneak candy when Mom and Dad weren’t looking, or I could respect their wishes. The latter is boring but safer. Defying the rules might cost me precious time with the kids, so I put away the ring pops.

It turns out that following the rules paid off. The no-sugar and no-red-dye policy eased, and now I can hand over a ring pop without guilt when they are with me. If I’d fought it, I might not have had the chance. Respect builds trust, and the freedom to fish candy out of my purse again.

I had to set my own boundaries

Before my first grandchild was born, I imagined the kids coming to my house. We’d bake cookies and dig into a special Grandma toy box. But my daughter-in-law pictured me coming to their home and helping in their space.

Regular drives to my grandkids’ house mean hours on the road and stepping out of my own comfort zone. Honestly, for most of us, grandparenting begins at a stage in life when our energy runs thinner, and adding travel on top of wrangling little ones is exhausting.

This difference in vision taught me something important: parents don’t hold the monopoly on boundaries. I had to set them too, though drawing those lines without damaging relationships takes care.

Eventually, we found a compromise. Most visits now take place at my house, which feels right to me, even if it leaves behind its own messes and crumbs. Boundaries aren’t selfish. They’re what allow me to show up with joy instead of exhaustion.

I’m here to support the parents too

I thought my only job as a grandma would be to adore the kids. Instead, I’ve become a sounding board for stressed parents, listening to worries about sports, food, or discipline.

It’s tough to stay quiet when I see patterns from my own parenting years repeat. I remember forcing my kids to clean their plates and insisting they avoid certain TV shows. Looking back, not every battle was worth fighting. None of my children starved, and they all grew up just fine. Yet now I watch my kids wrestle with similar questions and make choices I might not.

Sometimes my good intentions slip into helicopter behavior, like jumping in too quickly with advice. I have to remind myself that my “help” can feel like meddling.

I even knit a blanket for my granddaughter, imagining it would be her special treasure. Instead, it was quickly replaced with a store-bought version. That stung more than I expected, and reminded me that what feels meaningful to me may not be to her parents.

Another thing that surprised me is that I’m not allowed to post photos of my grandkids online. Do you know how hard it is for this grandma to keep pictures to herself? Torture. But respecting that boundary is part of the deal, even if I have to brag without snapshots.

I remind myself often that my role isn’t to fix everything. It’s about listening, supporting, and loving, even when it goes against my instincts.

I try not to compare myself to the other grandparents

Modern families often mean multiple sets of grandparents. Divorce, remarriage, and blended households can create a whole cheering section. Some show love with gifts, others with money, and some by attending every single game.

It’s hard not to compare. When I miss an event for work, I imagine my grandkids loving the other grandmas more. A wise friend reminds me that kids remember love, not attendance records or price tags. I hold on to that when my paranoia starts to whisper in my ear.

Being a Grandma is just as wonderful as I had hoped it would be, but it’s not the easy ride I imagined. I didn’t expect to have so many rules to follow, boundaries to set, and to discover new insecurities at this phase of life.

Many of us think we’ve figured life out when we reach the grandma stage, but grandparenting is the great leveler. It reminds me that I’m still a work in progress. This phase of life is not about perfection. It’s about showing up, listening hard, making sure my grandkids know they’re loved, whether I’m baking cookies or knitting blankets — even if my handiwork doesn’t turn out to be the treasure I imagined.