A Better Weekend
Mon., October 6, 11:42 AM
Imagine that, a weekend just for me. I rode the train to Boston and stayed overnight so that I could visit my daughter-in-law
(Ms. P.), my son, and Lila, the world’s most beautiful granddaughter. (Oh, yes, she is; Bubbe says so.)
U.D. had gone to visit on Rosh Hashana; I said she could go first because she stayed with Husband when Sister and I went to the baby shower. We had a bit of preparing to do first. I counted out Husband’s pills for her and left her instructions on what to feed him. (He was better behaved for her this week, though he managed to drop things out of the fridge.) Packing was easy, since I keep an extra set of personal items in my overnighter. Once I got it into my mind that I was actually going, I started to get excited.
Y’know, it has been eight years since I traveled anywhere all by myself, and U.D. was sure something would go wrong. She ordered my tickets on line, so that I could pick them up from a kiosk instead of waiting in line, and she went with me to get them. (It was a good thing, I suppose; I had a two-day case of the “dropsies.”) She sat me down in front of the arrivals-departure board, where I usually parked Husband’s wheel chair, even though he didn’t understand why. She told the people sitting there that I was a new grandma and announced that she had now informed the entire planet.
She had completely forgotten that I took care of things whenever I took Husband to Boston, which I did several times. The main difference now was that I didn’t have to go looking for assistance to get him onto the train. I did have to carry my own bag. The biggest difference was the feeling of freedom; I learned long ago that, once you have done all you can — and I had — you might as well relax ’cause you aren’t going to change anything.
A lady sharing my bench was taking the same train; she helped me with the bag, and we got to talking. Though we had both brought reading material along, we talked all the way to Boston. You talk about your families, your kids, and eventually your work. She happened to be a professional chef who is always looking for new ideas, and we talked about techniques and recipes. You know me, nothing I ever learn is wasted.
My son picked me up at the train station and brought me home, where I got to cuddle Lila — a lot. This I can do; I don’t want to offer a lot of comments that could come across as criticism. You would think that, after thousands of years of women having babies and caring for them, there would be nothing new. We still have the same “equipment.” Really, how different could it be?
It is different. And I should have known. As a matter of fact, I think I have enough on that subject for a separate post. But one big difference I should mention is that I have never seen a new daddy take so much responsibility. Both Ms. P. and Son get good family leave benefits, and he will be available for a couple of months. There is a certain division of labor, especially since Ms. P. is still recovering from surgery. She is responsible for one end (feeding), and he is responsible for the other. (I actually got a laugh out of Husband with that one.)
It is now Monday afternoon, and I am taking care of the chores that U.D. did all weekend. Though I returned Sunday afternoon, it has taken me this long to catch up on computer stuff. Actually, I’m not caught up; I need to order some stuff. And I still haven’t read yesterday’s newspaper.
As Lila looks more and more like her own person and less like a generic infant, I am questioning whether I should be publishing her picture in an unlocked journal. I can send them in individual e-mails, but I think there will be none in A Place of My Own for a while. After all, who knows who might be looking in; U.D. did notify the immediate world.
