Grandma! (me)

Visiting Henry, my first grandchild, is a trip!  I don't believe I've even held a baby for more than a couple of seconds since about 26 years ago when I had my youngest.  The first day felt awkward.  Then it all came back to me and felt perfectly natural.  I have no interest at all in other people's babies.  This is a whole different thing.  This baby sleeping on my chest fills me with peace and well-being (oxytocin? endorphins?).  He's five weeks old now.  Over the week I've been here, I've watched his gaze change as his vision improves.  When he stares right into my eyes, it's a thrill.  When he becomes perfectly still staring at a window or the ceiling fan or the line where wall meets ceiling, I'm fascinated.  Such a simple thing, and no less amazing for that.

I have a heart full of negative things to say about my mother, but she was there for both my sons' births (and, for different reasons, their fathers were not).  She was perfect, doing everything helpful and kind. Remembering that, and appreciating her so much, makes me joyful to have the chance to pass it on.  Contrary to my usual cranky attitude toward domestic tasks (and fully negligent at home), here I am genuinely happy to wash dishes, help cook & clean, do whatever I can to give the parents a break.  They are not getting much sleep yet, tired but happy.  This child is so fortunate to have such parents, to grow up in a happy family.

Okay, I'm getting misty-eyed.  Such a softy.  Wait, I'll think about our never-ending wars and the struggle to allow our citizens straightforward access to health care.  Yeah, here I am, all cranky again.