I woke up Monday morning with something niggling at the back of my brain. As I wandered into the living room, shooed the dog off the couch (which he ignored) and glanced outside to check the weather, my mind was working on remembering whatever it was I was supposed to remember.
I grabbed the cell phone I had left sitting on the end table, mentally chastising myself for forgetting to bring it into the bedroom. I’m on baby watch right now, since my daughter Maggie is due to give birth to my granddaughter sometime in the next two weeks. It’s been on my mind a lot, because she wants me there when the baby is born. So I’ve been driving around with a packed bag in my car, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Maggie has a medical condition that has made this pregnancy a bit of an adventure, and the doctors weren’t sure she’d go full term.
I’ve purposely not made any serious plans or appointments, because the minute I do, she’ll go into labor. She’s contrary that way.
And I’ve been keeping my cell pone handy at all times. Which is why I panicked slightly when I realized I hadn’t brought it into the bedroom.
“Whew,” I thought when I saw the blank screen.
No missed calls, no text messages. I’m in the clear.
I headed toward the shower, but something was still niggling away. Hmmm… what else did I forget?
My thoughts leaned back toward this grandbaby I’m impatiently waiting for, and I started thinking about all the stuff Maggie and Luke have sitting in their house, waiting for baby’s arrival. I had recently gotten a high chair from the Slayton Swap Shop on Facebook, and I still can’t decide whether to bring it toRochester, where Maggie and Luke live, or keep it home for when it is Granny time.
A little later, I was driving down the road towardWorthington, still thinking about baby stuff. At this point, the kid has one of everything – except a birthday.
Suddenly the niggling in the back of my head became a roar.
“CALL YOUR SON!” it yelled.
Oh! Right! Nick’s birthday.
I didn’t forget — I just didn’t exactly remember right away.
My son Nick turned 21 on Monday. Happy birthday, kiddo. Hopefully I’ll see you this weekend, unless, of course, your sister goes into labor.
And just so that I can stay ahead of the game a little, I’d better give a birthday shout out to my son Matt, who will be 19 on Thursday. Happy birthday, Buddy.
I can’t believe my baby is 19 years old. My little guy Nick is 21. How is this possible? I was just getting up for midnight feedings a few days ago, right? Where did my little boys go? Time sure flies.
Unless you’re waiting for someone to go into labor. Then it just plods along.
It seems like all the kids are grown-ups now, which makes me wonder who is left to be kids.
I got involved in an email conversation with my sisters-in-law about upcoming Christmas plans, and watched a discussion evolve about how to do the drawings for names for our yearly gift exchange. We used to separate the drawings for kids and adults, but with my baby turning 19, all of my kids qualify as adults, as do most of my nieces. The youngest in our family is my nephew Luke, who is 11. But I have a great-niece who is only 3 years old.
So, how do we decide who is an adult and who is a kid for the drawing, my sister-in-law asked.
My youngest brother came up with the perfect solution.
“Cut them in half and see how many rings they have,” he wrote.
I’ll have to remember not to leave him lone with the grandbaby.