A Smothering of Grandparents

Dear Enzo,


I love the names that have been given to large groups of animals: a pride of lions, a congress of owls, a bask of crocodiles,  a dazzle of zebras.  But I wonder, what is a large group of grandparents called?  I am not sure a term has been coined for what you have, but let me tell you, when it comes to grandparents, you have hit the jackpot.  Not only do you have 3 sets of grandparents, all six of them are healthy, interesting, relatively normal and absolutely crazy about you.


Grammy and Grampy were the first to meet you.  In fact, Grammy was there in the room when you were born.  Grammy has delivered thousands of babies in her life, but I am confident that you are far and away her most memorable birth.  She and Grampy were with you the first month of your life, when you were tiny and fragile and shivered every time we took your clothes off.  Grampy had never been around a baby before and he just marveled at you.  Every time we changed your diaper he was down on the floor rubbing your head and offering his finger to soothe you.  And Grammy, oh man, I don't think she has ever loved anything more than she loves you and when she had to go home I think she felt like she was leaving her own baby behind. 

For Christmas we went to Grampa and Noni's house in Oregon.  I told Papa that Grampa was going to be nuts about you, but he didn't believe me.  In fact, as we were getting off the airplane in Portland he warned me that I was expecting too much out of my seemingly stoic dad.  And I said "no, you are wrong, he is going to go nuts."  And sure enough, as soon as he caught sight of you in my arms as we came down the terminal Grampa started to cry.  He took you from me immediately and held you close.  The whole time we were at their house Grampa held you every chance he could get, even in the middle of the night. 


I was the one to underestimate Nani.  She was pretty young when you were born, too young to be a grandmother.  Uncle Ben and Uncle Sam were only 10 years old at the time, and I thought she would have a hard time thinking of you as a grandchild.  But I was wrong.  You are her grandson without a doubt.  She proudly displays your scrawny infant photo in her office, and writes about you with pride in her publications.  Nani straddles the line between mother and grandmother beautifully.


In April, months after you were born, your Dada and Dadi finally got a chance to meet you.  They had been watching you on Skype for weeks, Dada looking every day for signs that your hair had grown thicker or your chins had doubled.  Finally they came for their 5 week visit.  Papa went to pick them up from the airport and Dadi burst through the door and, in her excitement, swept you from my arms before she even said hello to me.  And you thought she was hilarious.  For the next five weeks she delighted in you, fed you, changed you and entertained you tirelessly while Momma and Papa were at work. 


When Dada first met you his initial response was a little more clinical - evaluating your hair, your weight, your excellent neck control.  But it wasn't long before even he was putty in your adorable hands.  He watches you roll and crawl and jab yourself in the eye with a spoon with a look that is equal parts amusement, awe, and adoration.  He proudly changes your "nappy" and when you fuss at dinner time he walks around and around and around the block with you to keep you happy.  You are his new best friend.

I envy you.  Though all four of my grandparents are (miraculously) still alive  I have never felt close to any of them.  This is partly my fault - as I became and adult I didn't reach out to them like I should have.  But it is partly because they never showed all that much interest in being close to me.  But not you, my dear boy.  You have a smothering of grandparents to call when you need some advice, or to spend your summers with, or to hit up for birthday money.  Dadi will try to feed you until you are stuffed and Dada will teach you how to bet money on gin.  Grampa will teach you to love board games and baseball, Noni will keep you well supplied with good books.  Grampy will have the patience to tie your shoes a thousand times and Grammy will bake you your favorite cookies and always know exactly what to get you for Christmas.  And all of them will love you no matter what, that is a promise.   Love, Momma

Half a year.

Dear Enzo,

Happy 6 month birthday, my sweet sweet boy.  I can't believe you are already half a year old! You have changed our lives so much, Papa and I often look at each other and wonder what we did before you were born - you fill every moment of our lives when we aren't sleeping or eating or at work.  Sometimes you fill those moments too.

Here is what you are doing at 6 months old:
1. Rolling over - you go from front to back and back to front like a pro.  We can't leave you on our bed anymore for a minute because you will roll right off.
2. Eating veggies - so far you have enjoyed carrots, avocado, broccoli, peas, squash, sweet potato, banana and apple.  You are a terrific eater, and you insist on holding the spoon.  Sometimes you even get it into your mouth, and sometimes your ear, and sometimes your eye...you make an unholy mess, but you love it so much that I just let you have at it.
3. Sitting up - you can almost sit all by yourself.  Sometimes you still topple over suddenly so we have to stay close, but soon we won't have to.  Your favorite is to sit on the couch between Papa and I.  You just hang out there, propped in the crack, so pleased with yourself.  It is adorable
4. Swinging - you love to go to the park and swing in the baby swing.  You are always the tiniest one there, we have to use a pillow to prop you up.  Yesterday you fell asleep in the swing.
5. Laughing - you just keep getting happier and your laugh is the absolute best sound in the world
6. Break Dancing - You want to crawl, so badly, but you just can't quite work out the mechanics.  Instead you push your rear up in the air and throw yourself forward on your tummy, in a hilarious imitatin of "the worm".  But every day you get closer to crawling and before we know it you are going to be taking off and we will be chasing after you.

I love you,
Momma

Chewing it over

I understand that all babies use their mouth as a way of exploring their environment, but you seem to take a particular delight in chewing up the world around you.  Within days of bringing you home from the hospital you gave your papa a bruise from sucking on his chest.  As a tiny baby you left a series of marks on my chin when you were feeling particularly hungry and mistook my face for a good place to nurse.  The marks stayed for days and turned purple and yellow before finally fading away. I think the best day of your small life was when you discovered you could grab something with your hands and put it in your mouth.  That day you took your colorful chew toy that Grammy gave you in both of your tiny fists and went to town.  And you have never looked back.


I try to exercise some discretion in what you are allowed to chew on.  I prevented you from gnawing on the rusted armrest at RFK stadium, I intercepted a handful of grass when we were out playing on the lawn, I wiped down the table at the Vietnamese restaurant before letting you have your way with it, and I have pulled you sputtering and choking up to your feet in your bath countless times as you try to put all the water in your mouth.  But I don't want to stop you from exploring.  I love your sense of curiosity about the world around you, manifested in your desire to put everything you see to your lips - from the shiver of joy that passed through your tiny frame when you got a hold of the crinkly shower curtain liner to the look of astonished disgust when you tasted a soapy sponge.  ( I think you will learn how to crawl when you are barely 6 months old purely out of a desire to get a hold of my cell phone, which I constantly place tortuously out of your reach.  )


But - and here is the question that will haunt me for the next 20 years - how much is too much?  How do I balance my desire for you to experience a full and interesting life with my desire to protect you from harm?  You love to swing, but you also love to chew on the baby seat while you swing.  Enzo dear, that baby swing at the park has got to be one of the most disgusting, germ infested surfaces on the planet.  Could you just leave it alone?  For my sake.


I promise to keep you safe.  I promise to let you have fun.  Forgive me if l don't get it right every time.


Love, 

Momma