Three red envelopes fan in my palm, waiting. I already know what they contain and I’m accustomed to it by now. The boys come bounding up the stairs, thrilled to hear they each have mail from Grandma. They tear into the paper like feral raccoons and reveal festive Valentine’s Day cards. Each card holds a simple message of adoration from their grandparents and cradles a crisp ten-dollar bill. The oldest knows to read each card to its owner before the dance party ensues, the kind where three little boys run around shirtless, waving their riches in the air.
Growing up was different at my house. Money was spent pragmatically. Indulgences were rare. Chores were not rewarded financially. Money was tight, which I came to learn was in part due to the private schools my sister and I attended and the house my parents had built when we were very little. Those reasons aside, my mother also housed a mindset of frugality that bled into every crevice of my childhood. Most likely, it was passed down from her parents, who lived through the Great Depression. The fear of being penniless led to manically clipping coupons and making pizzas from scratch every Friday night. When every other girl my age had American Girl dolls, I had the generic version clothed in whatever fabric my mom had at home. When I got my first job at 15, I was expected to save half, tithe 10 percent, and was allowed to spend the rest. Discipline was expected. With age, my birthday and Christmas became opportunities to receive practical items for my future: knit socks, dish sets, and luggage among them.
When my husband and I first started dating, I hated country music. He was convinced he could change my mind. My now-mother-in-law purchased concert tickets for us to see Rascal Flatts, but when I handed her a check for my portion of the cost and thanked her for purchasing them upfront for us, she promptly ripped my check in half with a smile.
Much of our courtship was spent at his house. Their seemingly open-door policy was shocking to me, but it felt warm and welcoming. I quickly realized the stark difference in our upbringings, as he rarely had a desire unmet. Contrary to my experience, their family dynamics were uncomfortable to me at first. From summer baseball games with ballpark treats to indulgent, overflowing Christmas stockings, my mother-in-law spoiled her family rotten.
Years later, when we were expecting our first child, my mother-in-law flooded us with affection as we patiently waited for our son to be born. She celebrated becoming a grandmother with over-the-top showers and expensive baby gear we couldn’t yet afford. While on maternity leave, my phone lit up with a text from my mother-in-law asking if I was home. She invited me to lunch, which I instinctively wanted to decline. I was unkempt and fearful of when the baby would demand his next meal. Regardless, I accepted the olive branch and went to lunch; she insisted on paying. She didn’t ask to hold the baby, but engaged me in light, easy conversation before we parted ways. Her house has since been stocked with diapers, bouncy seats, and toys. I could show up with nothing but the baby and know I was covered. Even now, with five grandkids, her generosity has yet to dwindle.
To be clear, it was never about the stuff. Receiving gifts can feel nice, and being spoiled has its perks, but what makes my mother-in-law the grandmother she is is how she shows up for the people she loves.
It’s her time and energy.
It’s how she prioritizes others.
It’s the level of thought she gives each and every one of the kids in her life.
She doesn’t hesitate to buy touristy toys from the zoo gift shop, but she’s also in the audience at every recital and sporting event, without fail. She celebrates birthdays enthusiastically with balloons and extravagant gifts, but also texts to wish her grandchildren good luck, feel better, miss you.
She fishes quarters from her wallet for arcade games and gumball machines. She donates to school fundraisers and makes bookfair purchases, regardless of the price tags. She spends her evening playing Yahtzee with her grandson instead of crawling into bed, exhausted. She braves the Play-Doh and glitter and pony beads. She pushes the swing, bakes cookies, fixes boo-boos. If it involves her grandkids, she is all in.
It still feels over the top to me sometimes, and I’ve had to practice embracing how she speaks love into those around her because it’s so different from what I grew up with. But I know my kids will never question if or how much they are adored by their grandmother. Their memories of her will always reflect her generous, ever-present spirit, and that’s a grandmother worth having in your corner. Those are the best gifts from a grandma.
by Britt LeBoeuf 
by Stacy Harrison 
