Many grandmothers provide regular childcare for their grandkids. I refuse to do that, and I’m not a bad grandma.

• I raised five children without the help of my mom, who lived thousands of miles away.
• I’m 67 now and finally able to do the things I love, so I’m not babysitting my grandchildren.
• I love them and will always gladly be their emergency backup for their parents.

I raised five children with no assistance from my own mom, who lived thousands of miles away. At the same time, I also worked in the children’s theater founded by my husband and me.

We figured it out, cobbling together childcare when needed from teenage sitters and our neighborhood babysitting co-op. Was it a perfect situation? No, but not once did I feel resentment, nor did it occur to me to blame my mother for not dropping everything, moving to our town, and stepping up.

My memories of her, and my kids’ memories of their Nana, are of a person who loved them utterly and loved being with them — but not on cue or by obligation.

Now, with two grandsons and another baby on the way, I have the same attitude as my mother.

I’m enjoying my life

I adored being a mom, even in the frantic five-kids-under-age-10 years, but I also looked forward to the end of diapers and Lego blocks.

At 67, I’m finally able to work as a full-time writer and am enjoying these latter years of my life immensely. I spend a lot of time with the boys, but my son and daughter-in-law insist on hiring sitters when they go out — unless I expressly offer to watch them, which certainly does happen. As a result, I never feel exhausted or overwhelmed. I’m not tied to regular childcare hours every day or every week.

I realize free grandma babysitting is a boon for parents who lack other options, and I salute the grandparents with the health, stamina, and desire to fill that role. But I know I’m no longer an ideal full-day companion to little ones.

While I try to keep in decent shape, I don’t think I could run after a toddler all over the playground without collapsing. I spend floor playtime eyeing furniture I can pull myself back up on. I fall asleep reading “Frog and Toad” after 7 p.m. My grandboys love playing Monopoly with me and tag and basketball with their 17-year-old sitter, who still has abundant energy to do those things — which is as it should be.

I already did my mothering job

I shouldn’t have to defend my choice or be seen as selfish for raising my children but not wanting to turn right around and do it all over again as a much older person.

Like my other grandparent friends, I did my mothering job well for many — in my case 30 — years. Are we not allowed to spread our aging wings now and start businesses, make art, return to school, and travel a bit? Can you imagine condemning a retired worker for not immediately resuming their former job — at zero pay? But that’s what’s being done when harmful generalizations about an older woman’s proscribed value in society are made.

My arms are ready to cradle my newborn grandchild in just a few weeks. I love attending the older boys’ soccer games and school band concerts. It is a joy and privilege to be an important part of their lives, even if I’m not the one putting them on the school bus every morning or driving them to every pediatrician’s appointment. I’ll always gladly be an emergency backup for their parents — without assuming that every day is an emergency.

My grandkids know how much I love them, and it isn’t measured by hours spent as their primary caregiver.

We can and should honor everyone’s choices about watching, or not watching, the youngest among us. After all, we loving grandparents really are on the same team.