I suck at multi-tasking. Grandmothering and blogging is tough. But I’ve felt so tense today and I know it’s because there are so many words backed up in my brain and they’re riding on my nerves demanding to be let out.
Thing is, I have no idea how to say all the things I want to say. I wrote a column about Claire a few days ago for publication in the paper tomorrow and it’s not even CLOSE to what I wanted to say. I guess when I go through a huge emotional event, no matter how wonderful and joyous, I need time to digest it all.
Damn….I’m a grandma!
I came home yesterday so my daughter and her husband could have some time alone with their baby. OK, that’s kind of a lie. I came home because I had a hair appointment. The gray was taking over my head, and while I love being a grandmother, I don’t want to look like one.
Back to multi-tasking. I discovered yesterday that you really can drive and eat an omelet at the same time. I had to leave P’burgh at 9:45 to get to my hair appointment in time. I opted to sit around holding Claire rather than pack, cook and eat my breakfast like a normal person, so I either had to take it on the road or starve. I threw together an egg-white and cheese omelet, wrapped it in a paper towel with eight grape tomatoes and set it on the passenger seat. Fortunately, omelets cool into a solid mass, at least the one I made yesterday did. I can’t imagine it would if I stuffed it with mushrooms, spinach and onions.
Anyway, I took a bite of omelet and popped a tomato in my mouth and it was almost like eating a real omelet, only I was driving. Oh, and talking on the phone, too! I forgot about that part. I really can multi-task.
I also came home because I needed to sleep in my own bed, pet my dogs, hug my husband, clean my kitchen, do normal things like that. I was in such a surreal world the last few days that I needed to sort through it all by immersing myself in the same old same old.
It’s the middle of October and I was so happy to see things are still growing and blooming in my garden. Mums, dahlias and some strange lovely purple flower that I’m calling my Claire flower since I have no idea what it is, like I didn’t know if she was a boy or girl before she was born. It’s from a bulb I got from a neighbor who also had no idea what it was.
A little bird had slipped himself inside the empty bird feeder, kind of like I did once back in the day when airport toilet stalls cost a dime to open. True story: I was 7 years old and I was waiting with my mom in the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport for my dad’s flight back from Rome. I had no money when I went into the bathroom so I got on my belly and slid under the door. I didn’t realize you could just open it from the inside to get out and so I got back on my belly and slid myself out of the stall only to be chastised by the cleaning lady.
Anyway, back to the bird. Man, was he pissed being stuck inside the bird feeder. I lifted one of the plastic sides and he flew away, chiding me until he reached the tree, like I’d put him in there in the first place. Whatever. I’m a grandma. He can think what he wants. He’s free. I’m happy.
I met a friend for lunch and then went to the hospital to visit my friend Pam who had a baby yesterday. I answered some email, told my neighbors about Claire, called Cassie to check on Claire. Hmmm. Maybe I’m sucking less at multi-tasking. The tension is easing. I’m writing this blog, although it probably doesn’t make much sense. But at least words aren’t bursting out my head anymore.
Be sure to check out my brother’s writing page. He wrote two new entries while I was busy grandparenting and I finally updated his site. Click here to read them.
Thanks for your patience. I promise to get back in the blogging groove.