Having a baby in the house turns your world inside out.
I’m used to a bit of noise from four teenagers and their friends and now everyone seems quieter since nobody wants to be the one who woke the baby from his restful nap. In the three months since my grandson was born, the teenage bickering to which I’d grown accustomed has lessened and while my pleas for someone to take out the garbage still seem to fall into the “I didn’t hear you” category, a screech from my grandson during normal teenage waking hours has each aunt and uncle jumping in to offer help to my teen mom. Diapers, bottles and bath time all included.
The support my daughter has received from her siblings makes me proud to be their mother. It’s me, the grandma, who needs the back up.
My teen mom went back to work after her maternity leave as a barista at Starbucks. The good part? I get time with my grandson all to myself. We sing songs and I giggle at his heartfelt, genuine baby smiles and the curious facial expressions he makes while discovering his own little feet and toes. I praise his poopy diapers and take him for neighborhood strolls and it’s wonderful.
So why would I need backup? Because all of this takes place at 4:00 in the morning every day when my daughter’s shift starts.
It sounded like a good plan. We wouldn’t need babysitters at all because I don’t start work until after she is already home! There must be something called “Grandma Brain” because even though I can rarely go to bed before midnight because of my own kids’ schedules, it never occurred to me that taking care of a baby at 4 a.m. every day for six hours before I started my own job and then subsequent evening time running to practices might just turn my own world inside out.
At that time of day (or night) there’s nobody else awake to make entertaining baby noises or to give those ear to ear smile-producing superman rides, which Grandma won’t do. At 16.5 pounds, my grandson is no feather. I’ve already endured one back surgery for a herniated lumbar disc. One of those is enough for a lifetime.
My once serene and peaceful morning shower time has been replaced with a game called Shower Curtain Peek-A-Boo that’s obviously so much fun that even the cats have to bust through the bathroom door like the FBI on a raid to see what they are missing.
For the first time in my life, I am tired. Now I know why the guy at the grocery store asked me if I needed help carrying a half pound of sliced turkey to my car. I need a porter to carry the bags under my eyes.
I may be tired and feeling like an old grandma, but I’m still not willing to trade in my trendy for support hose and sensible shoes. Since my own grandma has always told me that it’s better to look good than to feel good (and I admit, it is a huge ego boost when we’re out and I have to tell people he’s my grandson and hear the resulting “No way!”), I treated myself to a couple new funky shirts to wear and activated my plan.
Because I had previously discovered that taking my grandson on a swing over at the park at Melzer School almost instantaneously induces a nap on his part, we went there, he passed out and I got ready.
Slathering on some under eye concealer, I carefully applied my makeup, did my hair and just as my grandson awoke from his nap, decided to pair one of my new amazing tops with my dark skinny jeans. I slipped into my metallic wedgie sandals to complete the look as the super svelte “Real Housewife/Hottest Grandma On The Block”.
Feeling as such, I slinked into the gas station for a cup of coffee as an additional pick me up and smiled at everyone I saw. They smiled back. Almost too much. Something seemed weird.
When I paid for the coffee, the cashier kindly told me that she thought my shirt was on inside out. She was right.
It seems that not only my life has been turned inside out, my clothes have, too.
Oh, well. I tried.
How about you? What experience have you had that turned your life, and maybe even your clothes, inside out? Do share.