Back to the Daily Routine
Tue., August 26, 09:20 AM
It was a full weekend. Saturday was the neighborhood block party, which I would miss, because I needed to be in Massachusetts Sunday for my daughter-in-law’s baby shower. To you, this might be just another shower, but I will never again have a first grandchild.
It was also the first time I have been away from home overnight since my son and daughter-in-law got married — nearly two years ago. U.D. worked on the block party and took care of Husband, so that my sister and I could drive up on Saturday. It’s too long a drive to go back and forth in one day (except, of course, for my son, who does it regularly). It was a good time for a Peapod order, since I don’t know when I’ll get to the market again. Luckily everything was delivered early; one thing off my mind.
U.D. was prepared to put Husband into the wheelchair and push him down the street, but of course he made enough of a fuss about details that they argued, and he decided to stay home. She was in and out, trying to spend time with her own guests and see to him at the same time. She brought him a hot dog, beans, potato salad — all things he loves, or used to — but he wanted a burger. Everyone was eating cheeseburgers, and he wanted her to have the grill started again, ’cause, y’know, he doesn’t like cheese. She brought him back a cupcake only to find he was taking food from the kitchen and leaving a mess behind. (He also didn’t close the freezer door, leaving her to clean out the icicles and the extra frost in order to get the door closed… Ah, yes, he’s a laugh a minute.)
However, I had no intention of worrying about that; I was going to a party. I finished the second blanket in the nick of time. (This second one is quite small — a good size to use with a car seat.) Son had come down to work on “his lawn,” and I had him carry our gifts back to Massachusetts. I gave Husband his meds and his breakfast Saturday morning, and got ready to leave. I measured out Husband’s pills, one bottle of pills marked “supper,” for Saturday night and one bottle of pills marked “breakfast,” for Sunday morning. (Mine are in my purse.)
I had to find the suitcase before I could think about packing. It has a lot of items — shampoo, travel toothbrush, lotion, for example — that I never unpacked when we got back (because someone else needed my attention). Lucky me; I didn’t have to search for them.
Division of responsibility — Sister rents a car, and I take care of the hotel. Addresses and other pertinent information were in my purse, and she had the GPS. We got to the hotel around five, checked in, and called my son. He picked us up and brought us to their house so we could see the former office he and Ms. P. converted into a nursery. We looked at the wedding pictures — finally — as well as proofs of the book Sister is making for them. (Her style is different from the professional photographer’s.) Then we had dinner and talked and generally had an enjoyable evening. And I went right to sleep.
Next morning we had breakfast at the hotel — surprisingly reasonable — checked out and departed for the shower. I had the address, she had the GPS, and we arrived without incident.
It was, of course, a large party. Ms. P. has multiple aunts and more than sixty first cousins. They were not all there; however, when you count old friends and in-laws, well, there were a lot of people there. Ms. L., my machatonista, is an amazing organizer. (Get used to the term; I’ll use it a lot. It means my child’s mother-in-law, and there just ain’t no English equivalent.) She not only managed the venue and menu, but also brought some unusual gifts. For example, Ms. P.’s baby clothes, as well as linens Ms. L. had embroidered when she was pregnant. A handkerchief that will be old enough to be “something old” when the baby gets married. A kid’s clothes caddy she has been saving all these years. (We had one too, but it never occurred to me to keep it.)
There were, of course, many standard gifts, the things of which one can’t have too many, like sleepers and crib bedding and diapers. U.D. had sent safety things like outlet covers and cabinet locks — even a cover for the surge protector. There are things I never would have imagined, such as a wheeled frame for the car seat, which makes it into a stroller, or a padded seat for a grocery cart.
My sister took lots of pictures, because that’s what she does. I am not going to post them all, but someone is bound to ask what my blankets look like. Small modified granny on the left; classic granny on the right. Papa-to-be is pleased.
Who is that old woman?
