Columns

Column: Lulu’s night with grandpa; ‘No worries!’

There is probably not one square yard of our kitchen floor or dining deck that doesn’t have a squashed grape or a Cheerio on it. Cabinet doors and low level drawers have been opened and disemboweled. The yard is adorned with a new swing from the locust branch, a climbing gym, a splash pool and a tiny plastic bike. The cat runs in terror at the sound of a high-pitched squeal.

You guessed it. There’s a toddler in the house.

Last year at this time, we were in Australia, enjoying the first two weeks of Lucy’s life. It was pretty simple. Every morning as her new mommy slept and recovered, Grammie and Gramps would load the little bundle into the car then take her and the “pram” down to the “strand” to stroll along for a mile or so.

We would stop for cappuccino, gazing out toward Magnetic Island and Cleveland Bay. Baby slept and slept and slept.

“No worries! This grandparent thing is just great! All it involves is proudly displaying our incredibly beautiful little girl to every pedestrian, wait staff, fellow stroller and public employee that shows interest (how could they not), then drive back to the apartment to hand off the now awake and hungry newborn to Mommy. So easy!”

After returning home, it was just Skype, Skype, Skype at every opportunity. A visit from them near Christmas, when my Dad departed this earth, then a trip to Florida in February provided more opportunities to see the rapidly developing mini-person. Now, as their home has moved from 14 time zones away to only one, the access to our very first grandchild has greatly improved. I can say with authority as we counted down the weeks, days and hours, that this brief visit is one of those rare events that actually surpasses the anticipation of it.

Now to the actual grandparenting. I am seriously out of practice. When the mom and grandma go out for dinner, I am in charge. Daughter gives me very specific instructions as to the expected routine: dinner, then bath, the diaper, the onesie and finally a book in her special chair with a bottle of milk. Thus prepared, snap on the baby monitor and lay precious bundle in the crib. Watch and listen to the monitor: check on her now and then. Don’t fall asleep watching a movie. We’ll be home in a few hours.

“No worries!” I said in my worst Australian accent. “You just go and have a good time; I’ve got everything under control!”

The reality. Before the car carrying mommie and grandmommie even gets out of the driveway, baby deteriorates into an uncontrollable crying jag. She literally screams at the now vacant parking place where mommie was only minutes before and nothing I do ameliorates the situation. Into the sassy seat and an attempt at food. No way.

With surprising strength, she pushes my arm away as I try to feed her and she’s still screaming. OK, now what? Maybe she’ll calm down with the bath as dinner has turned into a non-event. Wrong again. She’s still screaming as I bathe her and try to placate her with stupid sounds and bath toys. Into the towel, still howling.

I am now beginning to panic and am very close to calling mommie for advice. Up to the changing table, tears are flowing and baby is becoming hoarse from screaming. Diaper in place, into the crib. She quickly stands up and hollers her displeasure. I run down to the kitchen, fill and heat a bottle and sprint back upstairs. Plucking baby from her bed, I settle down with her and her blanket in the chair as she eagerly grabs the bottle and stops crying for the first time in almost 45 minutes.

I think I’m over the hump. After quickly draining the bottle, she seems OK. She smiles! Hey, maybe now we can eat! Back down to the sassy seat she goes and actually consumes almost all of what I had fixed nearly an hour ago. A stroll around the deck, terrorizing the cat for a few minutes, picking up a spare Cheerio or two, singing and cooing, Lulu is now in her “happy place.” A little while longer and it’s back to the crib with the blanket and the binky. One last smile as she rubs her eyes and smushes her face onto the mattress, curling the blanket around her. Monitor cam adjusted, fan on low-cool, lights out. I creep away, back downstairs.

I’ve done my job, although horribly out of sequence. I clean the table, deck, plastic bib and try to reduce the amount of evidence that could point to the prior chaos.

Mommie and grandma return as I am watching a movie and not falling asleep. Monitor in place. All is calm, quiet and as it should be. Grandma notes that there is a towel on the bathroom floor and the little tub still has water in it. A rubber turtle lies in a small pool of water next to the piano.

She glances at mommie, turns to me and with one eyebrow raised she asks, “So how’d it go?”

“No worries!, no worries at all!”