And Baby Makes Three

My daughter, son-in-law, and their three kids climbed into their minivan and drove off, bound for Disney World. Sharon and I stood waving in the doorway, Sharon holding the eight month old baby boy they were leaving with us. For the first time in thirty-six years, we were going to be the full time caretakers of an infant. This nine day assignment had been planned for months. But just because you know something is coming doesn’t mean you’re prepared for it.

To this point, we had the blessing of enjoying our grandchildren in smaller doses. We spent many days and evenings with them babysitting, taking them to the playground, going to watch their ballgames and dance recitals and such. Occasionally one of them would spend the night. But nine straight days? This was taking it to a whole new level.

Did we remember anything about taking care of a baby full time? Will we get any sleep? Did I still possess the ability to suspend breathing through my nose while changing a diaper?

We were told the little guy would wake up about 4am each morning. Sharon told me the schedule. It called for a feeding and nap at 9am, another feeding and nap at 2pm, and to bed for the night around 7pm. I replied that would work fine for me, but what about the baby? She failed to see the humor.

At least he wasn’t up and running yet. He had worked his way to doing that army crawl, where you pull with your arms and drag the rest of your body behind you. We spread a blanket out on the floor and scattered several of his toys around it, foolishly believing the blanket would contain him. It’s amazing how fast a tyke can slither across a room, especially when there’s a dachshund chewing a rubber bone on the other side of the floor. Poor Oscar had to endure getting his floppy ears yanked and his tail pulled. Being the gentlest dog on the planet, he merely responded by attempting to slurp the baby in the face. (If my daughter reads this, don’t panic. We managed to stop him before any of the slurps landed….. I think.)

Feedings were interesting. We would gently slide the spoon into his mouth, whereupon he would take great delight in motorboating his food back out, spraying us with it. Didn’t take long to realize I was the one needing the bib, not him. We took him for walks on Trussville’s greenway along the Cahaba. The soft spring breeze and gentle vibration of the stroller wheels would lull him to sleep, thereby throwing him off schedule. Oh well, a sleeping baby was a happy baby we figured. I know it makes for happy grandparents. Ultimately we realized trying to establish a schedule was futile. He was on his own schedule. It was quite clearly his world and we were just living in it.

At this point I should pause to emphasize that I have been using the word “we” loosely. Sharon did most of the work, most of the getting up overnight, most of the diaper changing, most of the feedings. Yet, somehow, I felt more exhausted than she did. Where do women get this capacity to care for loved ones 24/7, enduring the fatigue and frustration? The old saying is true. There’s nothing like a mother’s love. Or a grandmother’s love. I frequently offered to jump in and take over. She usually let me off the hook, saying “It’s okay dear. I’ve got this.” Man, I love that woman.

Mainly, I was in charge of play time with this little ball of energy, or rocking him to sleep while we watched sports on TV together, or an occasional feeding, or releasing his clutches from Oscar’s ear. We watched a lot of that satellite channel Baby TV. It’s educational, but a bit ambitious. I’m not sure our eight month old is ready to learn what a trapezoid is.

I was also appointed vice-president in charge of non-baby activities, such as walking dogs (ours and theirs) and making food runs. All in all, it actually was quite fun , and apparently the baby had a blast as well, judging by the glee in his face when he managed to strafe the glasses off my face, or pull my fingers into his mouth and chomp them with both of his teeth. I had always heard there are only two reasons a baby cries. Either he is hungry or dirty. I beg to differ. Sometimes they just feel like being cranky, for no apparent reason. I can relate.

And why is it that, when you’re taking care of a baby, you always seem to see pacifiers lying around all over the place. Until you need one. At which time they have all disappeared into thin air.

The first day or two seemed to last forever, but after we settled into a routine, the time went by quickly. Now that he’s back home, I miss the little guy. Our week together was much more of a joy than I had anticipated. I wouldn’t mind doing that again.

Just don’t tell Oscar. His ears and tail are still recovering.