Babysitting

Is there anything more precious than a newborn babe? I am today sat as the babysitter to my precious new great niece. How did I get so lucky? My sister, the Nana, is off doing charity work, and my niece is off to work. Since I have not yet gone back to driving the bus, I was available to take on this beautiful charge and am loving every moment with the babe. She is a lovely little thing with dark curling hair and a round cherub's face. It is so easy to forget just how small they are newly arrived in the world. Holding her in my arms, I see so much of her mother in her. She has wrapped herself around my heart and occupies her own little space there. I have fed her, changed her, and rocked her to sleep with a lullaby. That innate urge we have to mother all comes rushing back when an infant is placed in our arms. She has been sleeping peacefully for an hour and a half now. I have checked to see that she is indeed sleeping and just fine, fighting back the urge to wake her so that I can hold her again. I have been mislead in the fact that I heard her parents have to hold her all the time. I am sure it was just a ruse to make sure I would say yes to caring for her. If my nieces and nephews affect me so strongly, I wonder what I will be like with grandchildren of my own. I will probably one of those grandmothers that we all avoid so as not to suffer through another boatload of pictures. I can't wait.

Surrender

As I state in my profile, I am under tall and overweight. So, it always with much trepidation that I set out to find an outfit or a dress for a special occasion. My last forays have been for a dress for my son's upcoming nuptials. I promised myself that I would just go and look with no special idea in mind. Every woman knows that, if you have the idea of the perfect thing in your mind,it will be nowhere to be found. With bright promise I set forth to shop for this most special moment in my life and my son's life. That bright promise was soon dashed and strewn smoldering at my feet. Is there some universal law that at a certain weight and age you must be thrust into something that makes you look matronly? There must be. It is either that or designers and buyers are spawns of the devil whose job it is to drive us to the brink of insanity. This statements comes from one who looks at shopping as a well honed hobby. I am resigned to the fact that I can buy few things from the rack that don't need altering. No, don't point out that they make petites; even they sometimes have to meet with the seamstress. Fair enough! I can live with that. What I can't live with are these boxy,no-fashion fashions that seem to be the next step from youthful prom dresses. Yep, that has always been my hope that designers would step in and make something that makes me resemble something like a short, stout, fencepost swathed in chiffon. Oh, yes, pick me. I know that my size is part of the problem and am working on that. But come on; I have a waistline and not a bad looking bust line. Why would I want to hide my few assets in a box made of chiffon? I must have tried on fifty dresses only to be left with nothing to show for it. I did finally find a dress. Is it right for the wedding? Is it all I hoped it would be? It is lovely, and I hope it is the right dress. But, all you moms of brides and grooms, we need to unite and demand that we be more respected. I, for one, admit that my hands are raised and a white flag is being waved. I didn't so much choose the dress as I did surrender to what I could find.

Time

My summer break is quickly coming to a close, and my son's wedding is looming on the horizon. How does time seem to slip unnoticed through my fingers? I know that just before I turned around there was still a year until this wedding and unmeasured amounts of time to get everything done. Now here I am hoping that the seamstress can get my dress altered in the two weeks we have left, and I still have to take care of renting a vehicle. Once again I am at the deadline and in panic mode. I could claim that my summer has been overflowing with activity. It has: national bowling tournament, the family reunion we hosted, and a visit from my English family. Still I should have had more than enough time were I a more organized person. As much as I want to be that person who knows where everything is, has her bags packed a week before the flight takes off, and Christmas cards sent the day after Thanksgiving; after 57 years of being me, I think there ain't a chance. If there is a bigger procrastinator in the world, I would like to meet them. It might make me feel a little better about the amount of time that I waste. So, my motto remains: "What gets done, gets done."