Ant, aunt; po-tate-toe, po-ta-toe.
**
Yesterday, taking advantage of the rain, his month of parental leave, and his father’s visit from the West Coast, my brother-in-law zipped out with carseat, diapers, bottles, change of clothing, family vehicle and infant in tow in order to pick up Saskia’s crib. She’s all done with it. Caleb, topping 15 pounds, is all done with the cradle we handed over.
That cradle came from friends whose three kids and one grandchild slept in it. During the years our kids used it, so did a handful of our friends’ kids. The crib was purchased but not used by friends, who passed it on to other friends, who passed it on to us.
To note, my big boys are really not quite boys—they are teens.
**
After last week’s onslaught of illness and this week’s holiday-plus-staff-development-day-plus-regularly-scheduled-home-day yesterday was my only day of quiet in the house this week, with all kids at school. For the work from home variety of writer/mama I am, this is a sacred thing, as you either can or cannot imagine.
However, having just a few days ago had a sweet visit with little Mickey—seven months-ish—I am very cognizant of the fact that babies are happiness producing factors for me. So, my being an aunt to small people, total bonus of the blended fam I hail from. As one friend—herself a mama to four—said, holding Saskia soon after Saskia was born: babies are grounding. I concur.
Besides, if you work at home and someone brings you a baby, who needs the water cooler chat or going out for lunch? Giving baby a bottle, noodling with a self-portrait of aunthood, that is very refreshing, indeed.
Note: I do not need to be related to you to channel my inner-aunt. Arella and Emily can vouch for me.
