Not much happened today, so I guess it's my chance to wax philosophical. Not that I'm ever shy about spouting my "philosophy". It's a Pollyanna-ish view of the world, and it's gone clear off the charts with this tiny, beautiful prodigy of a granddaughter.
Tom left for home early this morning. I know he woke me up to say goodbye; I hope I said something appropriate in return. I did think about him during the day today, and I know he landed safely at O'Hare. Traveling mercies.
In the early afternoon I went to Levallois to be with Jeanne and Juliet. We didn't do anything special, just our usual feeding, changing, a stroller ride to get something for dinner, then more feeding and changing, oh and a bath (that's always a highlight of the day), then more feeding, then dinner for the adults and then Grandma headed back to her own apartment, to get ready for our trip to Morlaix tomorrow.
Now here's the waxing part: How is it possible that such a tiny being has so totally captured my heart? When I came into Juliet's line of vision this afternoon, she smiled at me. She recognized me. Maybe it's just because I sometimes give her a bottle, but still, she smiled at me! My heart leapt!
When she does something new, like when she recently started holding onto her bottle, well then I just want to tell everyone I know. It's probably a good thing I don't live here; my friends would be bored to death, hearing about what Juliet is doing now. Or maybe that's what grandmas do, and when I go back to Elkhart my friends and I will have lengthy discussions of the wonderful things our grandchildren are doing.
I love to hold her and really look at her. When she's sleeping I study the little blue veins just under the surface of her skin. I look at her ears, her little rosebud mouth, her hands with dimples where the fingers meet the hand, her perfect little nails. I watch her as she sleeps; she makes such funny faces! Sometimes she whacks herself in the face with her hand. Her nostrils go in and out, in and out, and her mouth makes little sucking motions.
When she's awake and really calm I love to watch her eyes (blue, at least for now). They search your face like they're trying to memorize it. If she's calm she might try to talk to you, too. She makes sounds, and she makes the effort to make a sound even if nothing comes out. You watch her screw up her mouth, stick out her tongue and make the biggest effort, and when nothing comes out she seems frustrated. Of course, sometimes that can mean she is just filling her pants and will soon need a diaper change. (Usually her face is very red when this is happening.)
And sometimes she cries, and before she actually starts to cry, her face distorts and she gets the most woebegone look. Your heart just breaks for her. Other times she pouts, sticking out that lower lip and crying real tears. You would do anything to make her happy, but she will have none of it! And she has a "mad" cry. Boy, oh boy, is she mad and you are going to hear about it! Whatever it was that you did, don't do it again!
I'm fascinated with her, I'm in love with her, I adore her and I delight in her. I'm a grandma and I never realized what that would mean. My friends warned me, and they were right: it's the best thing ever. With a grandchild, every day is an ordinary, extraordinary day.
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