Monday, July 25, 2011

Let's Get it Started In Here

I'm not sure if iTunes has found a way for fetuses in utero to download new music, but I swear there is a bumping sound track blaring inside my belly. And someone is having a party.

To say that there is dancing going on at the oddest hours of the day and night does not begin to explain it. Baby #2 is doing back flips, the Moonwalk, the Cabbage Patch, the Running Man, and every other dance move from the past 20 years. This kid is rocking out with no regard for my internal organs. He's moshing in the mother of all mosh pits, river dancing up my rib cage, head-banging, rump shaking, poking feet, feeling the beat.

He's a rock star already.

And all I want to do is ask him politely to lower the volume and intensity so I can get some sleep.

I hate to be a buzz kill, but I'm calling "5-0" on this hooligan.

Friday, July 8, 2011

A Good Morning

It's 7 a.m. and I'm lying in bed, listening to my grandmother snore as peacefully as a newborn. She's sound asleep next to me and I realize this may be the first or second time ever that we've shared a bed.

I'm sleeping in her bed because it's 4th of July weekend and we have a full house at the shore. And by "full house," I mean 17 family members are all under one roof, which may be a record for us.

I'm wondering how my husband has slept in the daybed on the third floor and I giggle at the image he suggested of him sleeping in bed with us, spooning Gram. I guess it's good he's on the daybed.

I hear the waves of the ocean tumbling gently upon the shore outside the bedroom window. Then I hear my little two year old man start stirring in his Pack n Play crib which is in the corner of Gram's bedroom. I see him through the crib's mesh side rolling on his side, huddled in his blankets, sucking his thumb. He smiles before he even opens his eyes. I want him to see my face before he wonders where he is, calls out for me, and wakes Gram.

He sees me smiling at him as soon as he opens his big brown eyes. I wave at him from my spot in bed. He waves tiny fingers back and sings, "Mommy."

I hop out of bed and gather him up, two blankets, monkey, thumb in his mouth and all. He's warm and cozy. "You want to come in bed with Mommy and Grammy?" He smiles. "Yeah."

I place him carefully like a prince in full regalia in the middle of the king sized bed. He is curled up inches away from me and then rolls onto his other side to see Gram. He's inches away from her. "Dat is Grammy," he says pointing at her, almost grazing her nose. She smiles even before she opens her radiant green eyes. "Good morning, doll," she whispers to him.

When I was pregnant with Will, I had a dream about a baby boy lying side by side with my late grandfather. The baby in the dream was in a glass bassinet, the kind they place newborns in right away at the hospital. And, my grandfather was lying in a hospital bed, perhaps the last one I remember seeing him in before he died. In the dream, I thought, "There he is, lying side by side with his great-grandfather." It was very comforting.

But, here we are now, some two and a half years later, and this isn't a dream at all. This is life. As good as it gets.

"There he is lying side by side with his great-grandmom," I think to myself. I realize that he is one of the luckiest boys in the world. And, for me, just a silent observer, tied to these generations with profound love, I am extremely lucky too.

One day, this will all just be a dream, but for now, this indeed is a very good morning.