Successful Woman: My Grandmother’s Ordinary Life Done Well

Once upon a time, my co-workers organized a “Successful Women” series. They featured a CEO from a mid-size bank. She clearly had it all. A prestigious job, participation in numerous charitable causes, and numerous awards. Plus, when her daughter came home from college with friends, the CEO humbly bragged, she happily baked them all brownies.

Gah! I clapped dutifully, suppressing the urge to stick my fingers down my throat and retch.

Sure, it was jealousy. I always found that, with children, getting out of bed was hard enough. Making it in to the office was a clear win. I didn’t do outside evening activities. I had wine and went to bed. And, brownies?! Really? Brownies?!

But the real reason that I was so annoyed was different.

You see, the woman who I hold in my heart as my definition of success wouldn’t have been able to check a single one of those boxes.

Her resume was skimpy. She had an 8th grade education. She wasn’t on the boards of any charitable organizations. She never wrote anything; she never invented anything. No one outside of her small circle of friends and relatives had ever heard of her.

But she was a success. In part, because she had come far. A country girl, she married the gawky kid on a bike that her 8th grade teacher told her was the only boy in town worth her while.

She gave her daughters music lessons and delayed installing in-door plumbing to pay for their college tuition. They all graduated. In her later years, she became financially secure, and in her 70’s and 80’s, she traveled the world with her eldest daughter.

But that’s not why she was my model of success.

She was my model of success because the people that she loved the most loved her back. Her husband followed her with his eyes, and I never heard them raise their voices. Her three daughters all lived within walking distance. They called her every day. They didn’t call out of duty; they called because they needed her. She grounded them; she listened; she complimented. She was quiet, and she was slow to give advice.

She came to my house and took care of me when I had my babies.

On her 86th birthday, my husband and I wanted to take her out to dinner.

“I can’t” she replied. “I’m babysitting.” At 86, she was busy babysitting her great-grandchildren.

So. Where am I going with this? I mean, lots of people have lovely grandmothers and admire them. Why is this relevant to a moms blog?

To answer that, I have to go back to trying to figure out why I was so annoyed with that workplace presentation. (As well as why I haven’t moved on, so many years later.) It was because there were young mothers listening to what seemed to me to be such a narrow and potentially hollow definition of success–career success only. No!

I mean, actually, my grandmother was a working mom. She ran a farm while her husband worked as a carpenter. But, unlike my own mother, myself, and my daughter, she didn’t have a choice. She was stay-at-home. There were no career opportunities outside the home for women, and she played the hand that she was dealt. If I told her that she was my model of ‘success,’ she would probably give me a bemused look and a dry chuckle.

But the thing is, today, and when I was a young mother, everyone, everyday, has to make multiple large and small decisions. Should I take this job? Should I work overtime tonight, or come home and spend time with my family? Should I answer the e-mail before I go to bed? Am I a failure if I don’t work longer and harder?

That’s why I was lucky and wise to choose my grandmother as a model of success. It was achievable. When I knew her, she was first of all a good wife, mother, and grandmother. Me, I was never going to be a CEO, but hopefully, I was, and am, an okay mother. I was never going to be famous, but, hopefully, my husband and children love me, call me, and listen to me. I’ve been retired for 10 years, but I’m not lost; I’m too busy babysitting my grandchildren, and that’s fine. I’m okay with myself.

My grandmother led an ordinary life, but she did it well. I’ll be content if I can do the same. And that’s her final metric of success. My gratitude. My recognition of the multiple and subtle roles she played in my life.

Thank you Grandma. Thank you from my heart. You’ll always be my model of the successful woman.