St. Paddy's fact and fiction plus GRAND Social No. 247 link party for grandparents

St. Paddy's fact and fiction

St. Patrick's Day, one of the few holidays everyone loves to celebrate in ways large or small — regardless of one's religious, political, ancestral, or astrological background — is this Friday. Whether it's shamrock cookies, brisket, green beer or any other of the bevy of traditional Irish goodies you share with friends and family on the happy day, consider sharing a wee bit o' the following Irish lore with them as well, some fact and some fiction, all courtesy

First, I will share with you my favorite fact from the list as well as my fave fiction.

Fave fact: I am one in a million. One of 34.7 million, to be precise, as I'm one of that many U.S. residents who have honest-to-goodness Irish blood (of some degree) coursing through their veins. Yep, I'm Irish (and Dutch... which I've been told, "doesn't amount to much.")

Fave fiction: Good ol' Patrick of whom the holiday was named wasn't Irish! Nope, Patrick was born in Britain, then, at the age of 16, was kidnapped and sent to Ireland as a slave. Who knew? Not me!

There's more where that came from! Right here, the full infographic of fantastic St. Paddy's Day fact and fiction:

st. patrick's day trivia

May the luck o' the Irish be...

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Grandma's good fortune

I reside at the far end of "fortunate" when it comes to being a long-distance grandma. Reason being that despite my grandsons living more than 800 miles away, I get to see Mac and Bubby several times during the year.

I fully realize that is more often than a lot of long-distance grandparents get to see their sweet ones. It's even more often than PawDad, my partner in grandparenting, gets to see his grandsons.

How and why I've gotten so lucky is beyond me. Visits with my grandsons in the past couple years — pretty much since Mac was born — usually close with me unsure of when I'll get to see them again. Then somehow the semi-miraculous occurs and I end up with an unexpected trip to the desert landing in my lap.

Well once again the semi-miraculous has occured. This week the flight details have been finalized, the reservations have been made, and I'm off to see my grandsons midway through October.

As I considered the timing, I quickly realized that October isn't one of my favorite months just because I have few celebrations to plan, but more so because I've had the privilege of seeing my grandsons every October since Bubby was born.

There was last October, when PawDad and I visited together — then I went again alone two weeks later:

october with family 

And the October before, when Megan and the boys visited our house (and we all visited the North Pole):

october with family 

Plus, in October 2010, the month we learned Bubby would be a big brother, I visited sans PawDad:

october with family 

And October 2009:

october with family 

And, of course, there was October 2008, Bubby's very first October:

october with family

Yes, October is a very good month for visiting grandsons. I look forward to adding October 2013 to the list.

Did I mention my amazing good fortune?

Today's question:

What month for you features more time with family than any other?

8 ways to tell a grandchild 'I love you'

Sure, you tell your grandchildren “I love you” each time you end a telephone conversation or hug them goodbye. Here, though, are ideas for expressing the sentiment at other times in extra-special, unexpected ways.

ways to tell a grandchild i love you

Chalk it up. Turn the tables on chalk drawings and make one for your grandchild instead of the other way around. Grab some sidewalk chalk and cut loose with a heart-filled message of love your grandchild will see — and appreciate — next time she visits Grandma’s house. Long-distance grandmas can take a photo of their chalk masterpiece and send via text messaging, Facetime, Facebook, or e-mail. Or go the old-fashioned route and print it out then pop it in the mail.

Set a date night. Institute a standing special evening, weekly or monthly, with your grandson or granddaughter. Ideas for your time alone are unlimited: dinner and a movie; taking a class together; hitting the gym; attending a concert; playing at the park. Mix it up or make each date the same. Having several grandchildren make for a full calendar — and full hearts for all, too. Facetime, Skype and Google+ chats/hangouts save the day (and date night) for long-distance grandparents.

Make a mix tape. Okay, it’s not really a mix tape you’d be making, but compiling a playlist of songs that make you think of your grandchild then burning it to CD relays the message o’ love just as effectively (and emotionally) as cassette tapes of days gone by. It’s unlikely your grandchild will listen to your compilation on a CD player. That's okay, though, as it’s simple for him or her — or Mom or Dad — to pop the disc into a computer’s CD drive and transfer the songs over to iTunes or other audio programs for creating a playlist that will work in whatever high-tech way the kiddo chooses.

Crash the cafeteria. Surprise a grandchild by showing up at school to have lunch with her. She’ll be happy to show off Grandma or Grandpa to her friends, and even more excited to lead the way through the lunch line. Or consider bringing lunch to her, takeout or something from her list of favorite dishes made by Grandma. Whatever’s on the menu, be sure to get permission and clearance for the visit from parents and the school in advance.

Show up. In a vein similar to a cafeteria visit, consider taking time off work for a school (or preschool!) event you wouldn’t normally be able to attend: an awards ceremony, science fair, book fair, sporting event, performance, spelling bee. Show up unannounced — to the youngster, that is; again, get permission — and root for your little one. Be sure to remember the camera for capturing the ear-to-ear grins sure to follow when your grandchild spots you in the audience!

Blog about it — together. Create a private blog that only you and your grandchild (and Mom and Dad) can read and post on. All you need is a free gmail e-mail address and a few moments of time spent setting up a free blog on Blogger, making sure to mark the blog settings to be visible to only those invited. Even novices should have an easy time of managing a high-tech way of sharing news, photos, thoughts, concerns…and love. Little ones will need help from Mom and Dad to add posts, pictures and more, but older grandchildren will enjoy the challenge — and likely teach you a thing or two not only about blogging but also about themselves in the process.

Send them searching for it. Use Discovery Education’s Puzzlemaker to create a word search filled with all the things you love about your grandchild. Use your own title and input your own words for a one-sheet puzzle to print directly from the website for sharing with word-loving little ones — or big ones, too. Include an appropriate (and sharpened) pencil to double the fun. (And don’t forget to print out the key, too, just in case she can’t find all the loving words you set out to share.)

Just say it. Don’t reserve your “I love you”s for the end of conversations or visits; proclaim them at unexpected times, too: midway through reading a bedtime — or any time — story; via a midday text; at the closing of grace when sharing a meal. The time is always right to simply say, "I love you!"

Today's question:

How do you like to express your love for your favorite kiddos?

What I learned this week: Our voices matter

child's drawing

I used to sing, now I mostly whistle. For as long as I can remember, I've enjoyed accompanying music of all varieties, from big bands to little bands, from songs that rock to those that roll classically or otherwise. That accompaniment most often came by way of singing along.

Then I started losing my voice on a regular basis. Year after year — afteryearafteryearafteryear — I would get a bad cold that would quickly become laryngitis and I couldn't speak at all for days on end, much less sing. So I whistled.

Whistling came in handy when I had no voice, at least for carrying a tune. It didn't help a bit, though, when I needed to speak. For one long stretch of years, the years when I was a writer then editor at the newspaper, the loss of my voice every couple of months frustrated me to no end. I'd have interviews to conduct, people I'd have to speak to on the phone.

I'd gargle lemon juice in the morning before going to work, gargle lemon juice in the restroom at work, gargle it (or sometimes straight vinegar) before conducting an interview. The sour juices would cut through whatever rendered my vocal cords silent and and I could speak... for at least a few moments.

Sometimes, when the lack of a voice made it impossible for me to conduct my editorial business as I should, I had to ask my coworkers at times to return phone calls on important matters or I had to resort to emailing those who needed to talk to me. And this was before the days when folks checked their email on a regular basis — and long before texting was an option.

When my newspaper department was cut and my associates and I were left surviving on freelancing gigs, the loss of a voice still tripped me up now and again. I clearly recall one horrendous interview for a freelance article, a time when Froggy from Little Rascals had nothing on me and my croaking voice, yet the show, er, interview had to go on. I was so embarrassed listening to myself later as I transcribed that interview. So painful it was to hear, and so painful for my poor interviewee.

Soon after that interview, I started my blog. I've not lost my voice since.

As silly and new-agey as it may seem, I do believe in the mind-body connection, and the connection to losing my voice was this: I wasn't saying what I needed to say, the things I needed to let out, the things I wanted people to know about me and hear from me. My blog allowed me to make my voice heard. I was saying the things I needed to say, so no longer would I lose my voice.

Because I've been sick many, many times since starting my blog but have not once lost my voice, I firmly believe that through my blog I found my voice.

Through my blog others have found my voice, too. My voice seems to have resonated with the grandmas and others who have read Grandma's Briefs during the past four years. And this week I learned that my voice has resonated with others beyond grandmas, too.

See, back last year, there was a moment when I was incredibly frustrated by the manner in which I felt grandma bloggers were treated (or ignored) in the bloggy world. So I wrote a post about it, called it The Grandma in a Box. The post was so well received by the readers of Grandma's Briefs that I decided to enter it in the 2013 BlogHer Voices of the Year, which is a pretty big honor for the bloggers chosen.

And this week I learned that post of mine was named — out of the 2,600 entries — not only a Voices of the Year honoree, but the People's Choice selection in the humor category. (The other categories were Inspiration, Heart and OpEd.)

My voice... among the 100 chosen. My voice... one of four People's Choice winners. My voice... now officially a voice that mattered.

So unexpected, so humbling, so exciting.

BlogHer 2013All 100 bloggers selected in the 2013 BlogHer Voices of the Year — including several other midlife voices such as my Generation Fabulous friends Lois Alter Mark, Sandra Sallin, Janie Emaus (a Grilled Grandma!) and Shannon Bradley-Colleary — will be honored at the BlogHer conference July 26 in Chicago. The honor is a big deal, for me and for all the other bloggers named for their voices.

But the honor is a big deal for all grandparent bloggers, too, because my voice — a grandma voice — apparently mattered to folks who are not grandmas, folks who selected the Voices of the Year. Which is huge! That means grandma (and grandpa!) bloggers are finally getting noticed, finally being heard, finally, I hope, being let out of the box.

Not only does my voice matter, our voices matter. And that is what I learned this week, courtesy the 2013 BlogHer Voices of the Year.

I'm over and out for the week, but I look forward to seeing you again Monday here for the GRAND Social link party for grandparents. It's where you can share your posts — your voice — so I hope you'll join me.

Have a lovely weekend!

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

The 10 commandments for grandmothers

Commandments for Grandmas.JPG


Thou shall not put one grandchild above any other grandchild, in favor, gifts, deeds, or attention.


Thou shall not make for yourself a collection of images taken from the Facebook account, online photo-sharing service, or—heaven forbid—a physical photo album belonging to the parents of the grandchild without asking first.


Thou shall not take the name of the grandchild’s parents in vain for the manner in which they’re feeding, disciplining, spoiling, raising your grandchild(ren). At least not in front of the children.


Remember the Sabbath Day or whatever day may immediately follow a visit with the grandkids. Use it wisely to rest up, for you will surely need to recover from the energy depletion resulting from the constant attention, crafting, joking, cooking, and uncommon physical activity required—and fully enjoyed—while in the presence of a grandson or granddaughter.


Honor the father and mother of your grandchildren for in most cases, they really are trying their hardest to do right by the children.


Thou shall not murder the dietary and bedtime guidelines set forth by the grandchild’s parents. At least not often. And only when chocolate or a request for just one more bedtime story is involved.


Thou shall not commit adult-like expressions that demean the grandchild, no matter how challenging the child may be. Especially at an overdue bedtime—for the child or the grandma. Or during shopping excursions. Or when the little one won’t eat a special something you cooked up just for him or her, snarling and refusing to take even one single nibble because it’s too brown or too red or touching the food next to it.


Thou shall not steal all the time with the grandchild—especially a newborn—from other family members simply because you want to continue loving, touching and squeezing the little one, for others do, too. Volunteer, instead, to change the most stinkily soiled of diapers—something others refuse to do—then take your time doing it. 


Thou shall not bear false witness against the dog to keep a grandchild from getting in trouble for attempting to dig to China in the front yard or eating the last of the cookies from Mom’s cookie jar.


Thou shall not covet the time the other grandma has with your grandchildren, even if it’s far more than the time you are allotted. For regarding the moments grandmas and grandchildren share, the quality of the time not the quantity will be most memorably held in the hearts of the grandchildren—and the grandmother.

Today's question:

Which commandment are you most guilty of breaking? (Of the commandments above!)

I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)

Remember the old Meatloaf song, the over-the-top and emotionally draining "I Would Do Anything For Love (but I won't do that)." If not, feel free to take a moment and refresh your memory here.

That song has run through my head several times in the past few weeks, in response to recent news reports. For when it comes to my family and friends—my daughters in particular, in this instance—I sincerely would do anything for love. Whatever that anything may be, whether time, money, attention, affection, I will do and give to the full extent I'm able.

But, as that earworm of a song says, I won't do that. That being what some incredible and amazing mothers—grandmothers, really—have recently made the news for doing.

SO BLESSED MY GRANDSONS CAME NATURALLY.You may recall the many stories online and off about the kind and courageous—and physically fit, I must add—grandmother who served as a surrogate for her infertile daughter. The daughter was repeatedly unsuccessful in carrying a child to term, so the sixty-one-year-old mother, who had gone through menopause ten years prior, agreed to hormone supplementation and in vitro fertilization of her daughter's egg and her son-in-law's sperm. She successfully carried to term and in August, delivered via Cesarean section her daughter's biological daughter. Her own grandchild.

What an amazing gift to give a beloved daughter. And this most recent woman is not alone, as such surrogacies have taken place countless times in the past.

I truly, madly, deeply love my three daughters. But I don't think I'm selfless enough to commit to being a surrogate for any of them.

Serving as a surrogate isn't the most recent act of selflessness on the part of a mother, a grandmother-to-be, that has made the news. Yesterday's newspaper (yes, I read the actual print paper) featured a story about two Swedish women who underwent the world's first mother-to-daughter uterus transplants, in hopes they will be successful in getting pregnant and giving birth. That's two daughters with two mothers who gave up their uteruses (uteri?) for the love of their child. One daughter had her uterus removed because of cancer, the other was born without a uterus. Now, thanks to their moms, they each have one. Now the quest to bear children is on.

I honestly cannot imagine the point of desperation one must reach in order to consider, much less do such a thing. Such a heartbreaking state it must be. Regardless, if any one of my daughters came to me entertaining such a thought, suggesting such a plan, I couldn't do it. I really am not that strong, not that selfless.

And I really am not so committed to becoming a grandma that I'd birth my own grandchildren.

Although, I already am a grandma, so I can't say for sure.

I'm not judging any of the grandmothers who sacrifice in such a way, I promise. I truly think they are incredibly loving, giving women who have gone above and beyond the call of duty of a mother, of a grandmother. I'm just trying to understand the degree of cojones it takes. And why I don't have them, what I'm lacking that makes me, as a mother, unwilling to do such a thing for my own daughters, if need be.

In all honesty, because of various health issues, I'm pretty darn sure I would not be physically able to be a surrogate or offer up my uterus to be transplanted into my daughter. My oldest happened to be visiting as I wrote this, and I asked her if she'd ever consider requesting I be her surrogate or uterus donor. Her immediate response was "no," because of what the health repercussions may be to me, her mother.

I admit to being a wee bit thankful for those health issues that make me a poor candidate. They save me from having to find out for sure how deep is my love, for my girls, for my future grandchildren. At least when it comes to doing that. Because—more honesty here—I can't be one-hundred-percent certain that I wouldn't do such a thing, if it would make all the difference in a daughter's world if I did.

I pray my girls never reach the point of such desperation for children that surrogacy and transplants requiring my participation are a consideration. For any of us.

When it comes to my daughters, I really, truly, honestly would do anything for love.

But I won't do that.

I don't think.

And I hope I never have to find out for sure.

(Photography by Alison Baum. Full stories on the women mentioned can be found here and here.)

Today's question:

How about you? Would you do that?

How the news I'd be a grandma broke my heart

BubbyI’m continually enthralled by the videos on Facebook and YouTube of moms and dads getting the news from their adult children they will soon be grandparents. They’re always thrilled beyond words, often whooping and hollering for lack of any other way of expressing their joy.

For me, the experience was different. In fact, my heart unexpectedly broke into a thousand pieces when my daughter and son-in-law announced they were pregnant, that I would soon become a grandmother.

Megan and Preston chose to share the good news during a Thanksgiving visit. On their first night in town for the holiday, as our family gathered at a local restaurant, my daughter handed my husband a small, wrapped gift then handed a similar one to me.

“How sweet,” I thought, figuring they’d given us new pictures to hang in the house we’d just moved into a week before.

It was pictures, all right—ultrasound pictures in photo frames personalized for each: “Grandpa’s pride and joy” for my husband; “Grandma’s pride and joy” for me.

The unexpected gift threw me off for a minute, then it sunk in. And I began to cry, right there, in public, with dozens of restaurant patrons watching the scene as my husband and I passed our photo frames to our two other daughters as an explanation for the tears, whoops, hollers, and hugs.

Preston and BubbyI was overjoyed. And heartbroken. At the same time. Two feelings I never knew could co-exist—just the first of many “firsts” in my transition from mother to grandmother.

I was overjoyed for obvious reasons. I’M A GRANDMA! I wanted to shout to the room. The heartbreak, though? My heart was broken in a million pieces amidst the joy because nowhere was there mention that my daughter and son-in-law, who lived 819 miles away, would be relocating to be near me—Grandma.

Throughout the holiday weekend, the news was shared with extended family, always with a bittersweet tinge to my tune of happy tidings. Yes! Hallelujah! I was to be a grandma! But how very, very sad that I’d be a long-distance grandma.

I couldn’t be the only long-distance grandma, I consoled myself again and again that holiday weekend and beyond. But how do they survive? How can they function with huge chunks of their hearts living miles upon miles away?

MacI imagined my daughter, upon giving birth, would change her mind and want to move closer to Mom, to Grandma. I figured she’d convince her husband relocation was required and that idea tided me over for the many months of heartache and worry and yearning.

Then came the birth of my grandson. Labor wasn’t scheduled—though I now understand the advantages of doing so…for Grandma’s sake, of course—so booking a flight that would perfectly coincide with the big day was a gamble. A gamble I lost. My daughter and son-in-law managed to get through the delivery of my sweet grandson, though, and I arrived a week later.

The thrill upon meeting my grandson gives me goose bumps and throat lumps to this day. I cried the moment I saw him and took him in my arms. For a week, his little bundle of a body took turns being passed from Mommy to me. Every once in a while we’d share with others—reluctantly, for sure.

Then came time for me to return home. My husband and I headed to the airport with tear-filled eyes and empty arms. Oh, how the longing overtook my being. I didn’t recall ever feeling so lonesome for someone I’d known for such a short time. For someone I’d known ever, for I’d never before had to be apart from those I love the very most.

The word lonesome didn’t come even close to capturing the desolation I felt for weeks after. I thought again and again that there must be something wrong with other long-distance grandmas because they seemed so normal, so functioning, so accepting of the situation.

Megan and MacI railed against the distance far more than my daughter wanted to hear. She and her husband made their home far away, that was where they would stay, and I would just have to deal. Her words, her sentiments. My challenge.

I accepted the challenge as well as possible, with my mouth shut and my feelings to myself as much as I could bear. My daughter and I agreed to visiting, at a minimum, every other month. Either she and the baby would fly to the mountains, or I would fly to the desert. I was fortunate, I told myself; it’s better than some long-distance grandmas get.

After each visit, each extended period of hugging, touching, squeezing, and loving on my grandson, my arms would physically ache to hold him again. At such times I understood the phantom pains of amputees who had lost important, essential parts of their being.

I couldn’t imagine years of such yearning and hoped my daughter and son-in-law would eventually realize what was best for their son—meaning a grandma who lived locally. I was selfish in wanting that, expecting that, justifying my selfishness by pretending my grandson wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I was crazy. I now know that. Crazy in love—an unrequited love—with my grandson. I needed to get a grip.

Slowly I did.

Little by little the distance became easier. Okay, the distance didn’t become any easier, but my acceptance of the circumstances made the distance easier to bear. I stopped focusing on the times we spent apart and looked forward to the times we’d have together. I learned to keep a strong connection with my grandson—and now my second grandson, brother to the first, too—by whatever means I can find: telephone, Internet, postal service.

And I give thanks for the good fortune of being able to visit with my grandsons often, at either my place or theirs.

When you have no other choice, you do your best with what you've been given. Doing your best heals your broken heart.

Today's question:

How did you get the news you'd be a grandparent? If not a grandparent, how did you share the news with your parents?

Reminders of Grandma

I like to ask my Grilled Grandmas to do things I can't do. Specifically, I like to ask them to provide answers that I myself am not capable of providing.

For instance, when grilling up a grandma, I always ask What do you most want to pass along to your grandchildren? The ever gracious grandmas give profound answers I envy, especially because when I ask myself the same thing, a concise answer evades me.

The Grilled Grandma question I've most recently pondered myself is What is one word you hope your grandkids think of when they think of you? The Grilled Grandmas have offered up some awesome words in the past years of me asking them that. But can I answer that myself? Heck no! One word? You gotta be joking, I told myself.

I can, though, think of a whole list of things I hope make Bubby and Mac think of me. Today I'd like to share that list with you—prefaced, though, by a brief disclaimer. As Bubby is older and we've known each other longer, most on the list are things I hope currently remind him of me, but they're things I hope will eventually do the same for Baby Mac. Maybe they already do.

Things I hope remind my grandkids of me

  • Colorado—as well as mountains, snow, squirrels, Pikes Peak, and the North Pole
  • hugs

  • the click, click and flash of a camera
  • homemade ice cream

  • Mary Poppins, Jungle Book, and Robots

  • airports and airplanes
  • hot tubs

  • playing pirates in the park

  • water balloons

  • Muddy Buddies
  • black dogs, pointer/pits, and cats

  • movie theaters

Ultimately, though, the only thing that matters does come down to one simple word. That word is Gramma. It's the one word I most want to remind Bubby and Mac of me, the one word by which they know me, the one word that is uniquely me, only me. At least when it comes to only them.

Today's question:

What things do you hope remind your grandchildren or children of you?

15 mommy things grandmas may have forgotten

Until the past week, I'd forgotten all of this:

1. How often drinks spill.

2. If you think you have 20 minutes before the kids wake up, take the shower right then—without dawdling—for you really only have 10.

3. Ponytails are a mom's best friend.

4. Dishes and dusting CAN wait...and usually do. Along with answering email, reading, and going to the bathroom when you have to.

5. The shape a sandwich is cut into and whether the crusts are left on or not really do make or break lunch time.

6. You WILL need to nap when they do. Sometimes even when they don't.

7. Two in the tub is NOT double the fun, it's double the stress...and double the screaming when soap gets in eyes, double the resisting when it's time to get out.

8. Poopy diapers inevitably happen the instant bath time is over and the kid's dried, lotioned up, diapered and pajama-ed. (But don't complain—it's better than those horrendous times it happens before bath time is over.)

9. Go-to distractors for a little one determined to do a variety of dangerous deeds: "Look," "What's that?" and "Where's your toy (or nose or the dog or—in dire situations—Mommy)?"

10. Telling a kid "No" only means he or she will say "Yes" to trying to do it again...and again...and again. (I should have remembered that one from my daughters' teen years.)

11. Kids don't care how good—or bad—you sing.

12. They also don't care if you wear makeup. (Good news, considering No. 4).

13. Dinnertime through bedtime is the most challenging part of the day.

14. Heart-stopping screams are rarely indicators of death and destruction; more often, they're a barometer of delight.

15. Everything's better with ketchup on it. Or ranch dressing. Or syrup. But not mustard—ever.

Today's question:

What else would you add to the list?

What is a grandma?

My website stats show that folks often arrive at Grandma's Briefs by way of the search query, "What is a grandma?" As we grandmas darn well know, defining who and what we are isn't as simple as penning a few sentences similar to a dictionary entry.

That said, the Grilled Grandmas are experts in the field, so I figured combining their answers to the grilling question of "What one word do you hope your grandkids think of when they think of you?" would provide a pretty darn accurate answer of what a grandma is, or at least what one should strive to be.

So I did it. I went through all the Grilled Grandmas—from the very first to the one featured last week—collected their answers to that question, and input them into Wordle, using each word only one time (some, such as love, fun, and caring, were mentioned numerous times).

And here, my friends, is the result: The ultimate answer to the ever-burning question of ...

What is a grandma?

Bottom line? Looks to me like the best way to put it is that grandmas are just plain awesome!

Today's question:

What other words do you think should be added?

The Saturday Post: Mama Then & Now edition

The International Museum of Women recently launched Mama Then and Now, the latest gallery in the moving and thought-provoking online exhibition called MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe.

MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe explores the lives, visions and voices of mothers from more than 60 countries. Personal stories are shared through original creative works including film, music, art and more.

One of the highlights of Mama Then and Now is the following video in which women from around the world reflect on their personal motherhood experience and the generational differences between the grandmothers, mothers, and daughters of their families.

MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe also offers in-depth looks at Heroes: International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers, Activist Grandmothers, tongue-in-cheek, Facebook-inspired embroideries in a feature called Friend Me , and much, much more.

Take a look MAMA...then share it with the other mamas in your life.

Today's question:

How is your mothering and grandmothering experience different from your mother's and grandmother's?