Next month, I start a new job. It’ll be a something totally new that I’ve never, ever done before. I’ll be navigating unfamiliar and possibly treacherous waters.
I’m going to become a grandma for the first time.
To most, receiving the joyous news from your precious son or daughter that a grand-baby is on the way would be an intoxicating experience. After my son told us, I just felt like getting intoxicated. Or downright drunk.
First of all, we were almost the last of the “important people to tell” to know. Actually, we were the last. My daughter-in-law was damned near 5 months pregnant and all popped out when they told us! She wore a very loose shirt when we arrived… All of their close friends, co-workers and HER family knew weeks before were were privileged to receive the news about the impending “blessed event”.
Now, I know my son’s closest friends very well. I know that, if they get their hands on a juicy tidbit, their mother’s will know as soon know as possible. They are incapable of not spilling their guts to their moms. Clearly this trait hasn’t rubbed off onto my son.
When I lamented that the “moms” probably knew before I did, my son assured me that his friends PROMISED not to tell anybody. I talked to one of the “moms”. She knew before I did. Her son spilled his guts. My son is so naive…
Objectively, I kind of get why we were the last to know. We traveled from Georgia to Illinois to visit them this summer for a long weekend. They wanted to tell us in person. They wanted to see our reaction. I sorta get that in a detached kind of “isn’t that sweet” way.
But when I realize that scores of people knew before we did – their 3rd grade teachers, my 3rd grade teacher, our mailman and the cashier at Kroger – it made the news not quite as exciting as it should have been.
I’m just wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t gone up there this summer. I guess I’d have figured it out when I got the first baby shower invite.
My son tells us were welcome to come up when his wife goes into labor to be there for the delivery. We live a 12+ hour drive away. And it would be more than likely snowing for the last 6 of those 12+ hours what with the Polar Vortex and all. To book a same day or next day flight would cost at least $630. Each.
We opted to book a flight up two days after the due date in hopes that the little critter arrives on schedule or is maybe just a little late. That would be excellent if he was a bit late. He would get his first Do Bee points for that. Miss Janie would be proud.
We’ve been told we have to stay at a hotel when we come up because they don’t want anybody else in their house while they’re all “bonding”. Good God.
Then we get a text a couple of weeks ago saying that we needed to get our “shots” before we come up. Nobody without their “shots” will be allowed to get anywhere close to the baby. Again, WTF? I’ll get my shots alright – those little Candy Cane Jello shots from my last post. Maybe I can find a happy hour close by.
But being the dutiful soon-to-be grandma who doesn’t want to piss off her son and really does want to see her newborn grandson, I got my “shots” yesterday. And my arm is really, really sore today. Thanks Obama.
I’ve been thinking about my grandma “name”. You know – what the little guy will call me when he starts talking. Providing we will be allowed to talk to him. You never know with all of the rules.
Grams, Nana, Grammy, Big Mama, Memaw – so many to choose from.
GrannyMyAss has a really nice ring to it.