20 Weeks
and 6 Days to Go (approximately, of course)
It’s a foggy Sunday
Morning and we’ve all been up since around 6am; me- because even though I prudently took a flu shot, somehow
came down with the flu, Mark- because he couldn’t sleep (most likely because
when I’m sick I moan all night and call out for him to tell him I’m sick) and
my mother- probably because we’re up and she might as well be up with us. The only one still asleep is Kim, who
has the flu too.
Actually, I’m
probably up because I can’t seem to get enough room in a king size bed with a
small size 18 pound dog. When I
had my 65 pound chocolate lab mix and she didn’t give me enough room, all I had
to do was say, “Move, Coco” and she would obey. Not Sonny- he thinks we’re
sleeping in his bed. He settles into whatever position I’m
lying in and conforms to my body as if I’m a Tempurpedic mattress. And when I try to move him- he
stubbornly digs himself in and it feels as if he’s a 100 pounds. If I can budge him even the slightest,
he growls at me. He’s an angel
when he’s awake but when he’s sleeping, he acts like he’s an attack dog. So I wake up all twisted and achy
(feeling like the “grandma” I will soon become) and he jumps out of bed like he
can be the first dog to compete in the Olympics for gymnastics.
Added to the fact
that I’m cranky from being sick and sleeping with an inconsiderate dog, I’m
also upset because I was supposed to go with Lindsay today while her friend
does an ultrasound for her. Her
friend, Renae, is an ultrasound technician and Lindsay is able to get
ultrasounds if Renae can fit her in.
Now I can’t even be near Lindsay because I don’t want to get her
sick. I am very upset about this
because I was really looking forward to catching a glimpse of my little
granddaughter on the inside. I am
hoping somehow that we can “face-time” with our iPhones so I can possibly see
the ultrasound that way. I might as well make use of all the advanced
technology we have today.
Who would have
thought that when I became a grandma I would be able to watch a sonogram
through my phone? On top of that I
also have two apps on my iPhone, which give me weekly and daily reports of the
pregnancy and another cute little “app” called “wee mail” which gives me email updates
from the baby; and as I write this, I just got an alert on my phone with a new
wee mail coming in, which says, “They say my movements feel like popcorn popping. So that’s why you downed an entire
bottle of squeezable butter.” Yes
the “wee mail” baby has a sense of humor.
I have all these
apps neatly arranged in a little folder on my phone along with an app for me-
on menopause, which I really don’t use.
I also have two apps for baby names, so I can try to guess the mystery name
of my granddaughter, which her parents refuse to divulge. At first, Lindsay said that if I
guessed the name she would tell me I’m right; so we had a few days of me being
“Rumplestiltskin” and asking her all the possible names beginning with E, G, J
or L. Then Scott said that she
should keep the name a secret.
Well touché- because now I’m keeping what the baby is going to call ME a
secret, too. I just checked out a
few websites, which have unique names for grandmas. It seems there are a
vast array of names to choose from—and there’s even a book, The New Grandparents Name List, a
Lighthearted Guide to Picking the Perfect Grandparent Name. So there!
Meanwhile, when I
talk to my granddaughter- and yes I talk to her because the pregnancy app said
she would recognize voices, at first, I didn’t know what to call her. So I began to call her by a fruit or
vegetable, because that’s how the pregnancy apps describe the size of the
baby. Well, it does make sense to
compare gestation to the produce department. Possibly, Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter “Apple” for
this reason. Initially, I called
my granddaughter “my sweet potato”, then “my little mango”. I even bought the fruit or vegetable
that week and showed Mark the size of his granddaughter and had him carefully
practice holding her. However, the
pregnancy apps are inconsistent; for example, at 17 weeks it could be the size
of a turnip, a pear or an onion.
There’s even one week, I think 13, where they compared the baby to a
shrimp- I don’t know how they got the fish department involved. Finally, Lindsay decided to give the
baby a nickname—Talulah. So,
that’s what I’m calling her now. I
even like that name.
All this reminded
me of a time, back in 2000, when I was traveling for business and sitting in an
airport terminal in some state I don’t recall. What I do recall, distinctly, is there was a young
couple sitting at the gate with their little girl, an adorable toddler, maybe
two years old. The mom kept calling
her “Sweet Potato”. At that time,
I used to carry a writing journal with me at all times because most of my work
involved teaching teachers how to teach writing and I wrote this poem, based on
all the different pet names we call our children. I managed to dig up that writing journal and found the poem,
dated December 9, 2000, a little more than 13 years old, when Lindsay was a
young lady of 18. Here it is….
Sweet
Potato
Mommy
calls me “Sweet Potato”,
Though
I couldn’t tell you why.
And
when Daddy tucks me in at night,
He
calls me “Tootsie Pie”.
Nanny
calls me her “Chocolate Chip Cookie”,
Cause
that’s her favorite treat.
And
Poppy calls me “Sugar”,
Cause
he says I’m very sweet.
They
also call me “Honey Bunny” and “Munchkin”
It
all just sounds the same.
Could
it be that honestly, they just forgot my name?
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