This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Phyllis Cavone, 76, from Orlando. It has been edited for length and clarity.
My three grandsons live and breathe baseball. My husband, Francis, 75, and I pride ourselves on taking them to as many games and training sessions as we can.
Recently, however, we got sick. Another parent invited our youngest boy, Christopher, 13, to stay over for the weekend. The mom said Christopher’s older brother, Francis, 17, met them at the practice.
“Thank you for everything you do for my brother,” Francis told her. He’s such a kind, understanding kid with lots of charm. Christopher and our middle grandson, Dominic, 15, have similar personalities. “We must be doing something right,” I thought.
My husband and I never imagined that we’d be bringing up teenagers in our mid-70s. When we were younger, we didn’t think our retirement would look anything like it does now. But life throws curveballs.
My mom, who had dementia, lived with us too
Family circumstances led us to raise Francis after his birth in 2007. There was never any question that we would. We did the same for Dominic, who was born in 2008, and Christopher, in 2011.
“We just can’t keep on having babies!” my husband would joke when he was up to his eyes in diapers at the age of 60. He had retired from the police department in Philadelphia 10 years earlier. I was a full-time dental assistant and practice manager, so he did most of the heavy lifting at home.
He not only watched the boys but cared for my mom, who had dementia. She lived with us until she died in 2013. It was tough, but it’s comforting to know she spent her last years in a house full of youth and laughter.
We had help from a cousin who came every day to supervise the boys before they were old enough for day care and later school. My husband did the brunt of the driving because they’d have so many sports activities. His background in law enforcement made him street-smart, and the kids respected him and his straight-talking.
In 2015, our family moved from Pennsylvania to Florida, where we built a house for the five of us. I miss my friends and relatives, but it’s going well. The boys have a lot more space and freedom to grow up here.
We won’t be here for the boys forever
There are challenges — the teenage years are not my favorite, I have to say — but we’re making it work. We want to set them up for the future so they can stand on their own two feet as independent young men.
Francis and I won’t be here forever — and our grandsons know that. But we do our best to reassure them that, despite some health issues as we get older, Mommom and Poppop are OK.
The most important thing is for them to feel safe and loved — the greatest gifts we can offer them as grandparents.
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