Grandma Life

Best day ever.  Mike’s mom Coryn told me I looked like I was glowing.  I felt like I was glowing with the love, joy, and sheer happiness that holding my grandson brings me.  I’m so glad Esther, John Ben, and Misha were able to visit us this summer.

Esther and John Ben planned to bring Misha to my church with them on Sunday.  They had gone to an evening service on Saturday so as not to miss communion at their Catholic church, but Misha had his own plans.  He slept not a wink Saturday night. 

My summer schedule has me going to sleep early and taking the baby around six so the kids can get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.  Misha never got the hang of breastfeeding on account of his tongue and lip tie even after his laser surgery, but he drinks Esther’s pumped milk from a bottle like a champ.  It’s a bummer for Esther, but it’s a pleasure to give Misha his bottle, feel the warmth of his fourteen-pound body against my chest, and see his eyes looking up with attention and wonder.  I burp him against my shoulder and feel proud when he gives me a good one.  It brings back all the memories.

I don’t hold many babies even though there are lots of babies passed around at church.  I felt nervous the first time Esther walked in the front door and handed him to me.  Memories of exhaustion and stress flashed through my mind until I looked down and saw how well he fit in my arms.  The present perfection brought back the wonder of holding Esther for the first time, times seven.  Being a mother healed many of my childhood hurts, and being a grandmother is healing the trauma of motherhood.  It feels incredibly good to hold a baby without the fears and responsibilities of parental decision-making.  I simply do what Esther and John Ben ask.

Watching them from the distance of an older generation, I feel respect and sympathy for the tired parents and so much compassion for my younger self. My parenting choices make more sense now.  It’s no wonder that I coped the way I did, and it’s downright impressive that I made it through those months of sleepless nights six times!  Living in California with Mike working well over forty hours a week, I didn’t have a husband and family to share the caregiving that Esther has.  What a blessing for Misha.

I stayed up extra late on Saturday night with Mike, Esther, and John Ben playing Pandemic Legacy.  We ate chocolate and I had a vodka sour.  It seems that I am allergic to tannins.  I found a website about it and the lady recommended a vodka based on whey instead of fruits or grains which I can drink without any ill effects except that dehydrated feeling in the morning.

I slept so soundly that it was seven before I made it to the guest room.  John Ben was dead asleep.  Esther explained the sleepless night with a touch of zombie in her voice and was fast asleep before Misha and I walked out of their bedroom door with permission to adventure off to church without them.

Oh, I had forgotten how hard it is to get out the door with a baby.  I found the diaper bag and added fresh wipes and a bottle.  Then we needed to change his diaper and put him in fresh clothes before strapping him into his car seat.  I had Jonah and Justin help me carry Misha’s stuff, as well as his pacifier, and the last ounce of milk from the bottle he was drinking up until it was time to go.  Jonah sat in the back with him and entertained the little guy until he fell asleep. 

He might have stayed asleep, but I couldn’t remember how to get the car seat off the base in the car.  I pulled out a wide-awake baby.  I didn’t mind walking into the sanctuary in front of all my friends with the most adorable baby ever in my arms.  My friends smiled at us and had that look of baby adoration that people get when looking at my eight-week-old grandson.

Misha loved looking at the glowing, saint-covered, golden chandeliers, and the huge icons on the walls all around us.  He also gazed at me.  I spent the first half of the service gazing back at him, his little face another icon, a window into heaven.

He started crying during the reading of the gospel, so I took him out to the nursing room at the back of the church.  We weaved our way through the congregation passing my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ who smiled at me or gave me friendly touches on my shoulder.  I sat in one of the rocking chairs, held Misha close, and rocked until he fell sound asleep.  I often take care of him from six until ten or eleven in the morning, but at home he has his play area to kick around in.  I don’t usually hold him for three or four hours straight.  My left arm was aching by communion.  Kelly, Christa, and Christa’s daughter Yulia were there to hold him for me.  I tried to shake out my arms in the communion line, but Justin kept my arms folded in proper communion position.  It was still a break. 

The choir singing filled the church, but across the sanctuary, I heard when Misha woke up and whimpered.  He fussed until I communed and took him back in my arms where he fell asleep again.  How wonderful it is to be someone’s safe space.

He woke up at the end of the service hungry for his next bottle.  I fed him while we listened to the post-communion prayers together.  As Coryn left, she asked me if my face was tired from smiling which made me smile even harder.  I love the joy she had at seeing me so happy holding her precious great-grandson.

We left after a short time at coffee hour once Misha had finished his bottle.  I had hoped to hear from Basil who on Saturday had texted, “Hey I’d love to call sometime tomorrow.”  I texted him once I got home and was free, but he texted back that they had had a big liturgy and would try to get back to me once he had a break…which never happened.  Still, it warms my heart to have my adult son wanting to check in with me.  I still keep wanting to call him down to dinner only to realize that he is all the way at the Antiochian Village in Pennsylvania. 

Kelly came over after lunch.  While Jonah and Alex rode a one-wheel and a bike to a gym to work out, Kelly and I spent the afternoon reading my latest manuscript for Syra’s Scribbles V.  We got through four or five stories before it was time for me to set the table and make rice.  Mike cooked Vietnamese caramel chicken which we served with buttered rice and green beans flavored with pepper and parmesan cheese.  We were joined for dinner by Sophia and our friends Judy and Jenifer to sit twelve around the table.  It was our last Sunday of the Paschal season.  I’ll miss singing the resurrection troparion, “Christ is Risen” before meals.  With Esther’s help, we’ve even been able to sing “Christ is Risen” in the new American melody also known as the Appalachian tune.  The food was delicious, and the conversations were fun.  Judy brought strawberries and ice cream for dessert.

I took Judy around our property afterwards, pointing out the fruit trees sporting miniature apples, pears, plums, and peaches.  She marveled at the Farmer’s Market in our own backyard.  Then I showed her the courtyard where Misha and I sit outside in the mornings listening to the neighbors’ goats and donkeys making their barnyard noises.  Our family moved to New Mexico almost a year ago, and I still feel thankful every day that we live here.  I love my Albuquerque life and can’t wait to see Misha and all my future grandchildren enjoy this property summer after summer.  Thinking about it widens the smile already fixed on my face.