Friday, March 8, 2013

Waiting for number three


Allison, stylishly pregnant in High Line Park, NYC
I shouldn't be writing. What I should be doing is grading papers, posting assignments, building my department's newsletter which was due yesterday, or filling out student loan consolidation papers. Even though I haven't blogged in six months, I shouldn't be doing it NOW.

But I can't help it. I am waiting for Allison, my younger beautiful daughter to deliver my third grandchild. Hard to believe, isn't it? If you don't know me personally, you may be surprised to hear that I have more than one.

When Megan had Charlotte, I was still a columnist at a newspaper. In fact, she may be part of the reason I'm not still writing for them. They started asking me about my subject ahead of time, something they'd never done before. They warned me I was writing too much about my granddaughter (I counted; it really wasn't all that often).

The truth is that the powers that be weren't amused by the blonde tot's antics. But I knew my audience was; I had the emails to prove it. People loved Charlotte.

But I had more time then, and since, I have taken on three jobs, become a commuter, and have a ten-month-old grandson you've never met, Desmond Flynn. So I thought I should catch you up, before Allison delivers grandson number two.

This is Desmond Flynn, whose middle name was inspired by
 his sister, who loves Tangled.
Desmond has his moments of inconsolability, but generally has a cheery disposition, and a smile with the megawatts of a Hollywood klieg light.

He smiles all the time he isn't pissed off by his inability to talk, walk, and make you understand exactly what it is he wants. At his tender age, he seems to be angst-free, which is more than we can say for Charlotte.

If they were fictional characters, Charlotte would be Hamlet, and Des, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. (Or at least Anne of Green Gables.)

Desmond is like Charlie Chaplin, all physical comedy. He'll try to walk, fall on his butt, and turn to smile at you, like: "Did you see what I did there? I got a million of 'em."

I wasn't really prepared for a boy, but Desmond won me over, and the first time he turned that high-beam smile on me, I was putty in his hands. He is sweetness incarnate, except when he's trying to avoid sleeping.

This is kind of aunt that Allison is:
the run-through-the-sprinklers-with all-her-clothes-on aunt.
When she showed up, C asked her "Do you like water?
Do you like bugs? Mommy! She likes water and bugs!"

Allison has some trepidation about becoming a mom, even though she's been both a babysitter and a nanny for years. But I have no fear. She is heavily invested in being a family, and I'm sure she will built a rock-solid family of her own.

When we all lived together, she was the one saying, "Let's turn off the television." Let's play some games. Let's have family time."

She plays wonderful games with Charlotte, who adores her unquestioningly. C remarks when people or things remind her of "Aunt Ally."

Patrick and Ally dance at their wedding in 2011.
Another point in Ally's favor is Patrick, the husband who adores her. Although I'm sure his mother would say it is past time he was a father, I think this baby is coming at exactly the right moment. He is coming into his own as a head winemaker, and now this.

I'm sure there's a tortured metaphor to be made about winemaking being like childrearing, since you don't know the real outcome of your labor for years, but I won't go there.

Now Allison is in the hospital waiting for them to induce labor, and Megan will be flying back to New York to meet her first nephew next week. I will be watching Charlotte overnight, and I'm sure we will have a great time. Last time we have a sleep-over, she was so kind as to point out that "Pluto is no longer a planet. They decided it was too small."

Yeah, I knew that, kid. I just refuse to let go of things I have believed for 40-plus years.

Desmond, wreathed in his customary smile.
I leave at the end of the month for the East Coast, and will spend my spring break getting to know yet another boy. I'm sure I will love him every bit as much as Desmond. I hope we get another clown.