When my daughter told me she was taking the baby to see her brother’s family, I was mildly surprised. Alone? Just the two of them? It’s her life and she can make her own decisions, but I had my doubts. She didn’t ask me to come with her. I offered to go and she was delighted! We had an awesome time. It was one of those bonding moments. For us, as mother/daughter and for me and the baby.
The family was ecstatic to see the baby. It was all joy. At first. As the visit continued, it was clear that the baby was not happy to be away from home. He was off his schedule, away from familiarity. When I travel, I miss my bed. My house. My stuff. I imagine that it was harder for him. He didn’t understand why this was happening. He was off his sleeping schedule and managed to disrupt the sleeping schedule for the rest of us too!
On the last day, we sat around sharing war...I mean… baby stories. I said that he was just acting like a baby. Why do you think that term even exists! We talked about the hard moments with our children when they were that little with much laughter and teasing. However, in the moment, when it was actually happening, when my own baby was crying relentlessly, it was anything BUT funny.
These are the moments that are made for family. Sharing, supporting, and just remembering. When I got home to my own quiet house, sans baby, I was happy and relieved. I loved those baby years. And, I’m enjoying them as a grandmother. But, I love my quiet childless (unless you count Buster and the gang) life. And, the baby? He went right back to his normal self as soon as he got home to his own bed! Ah.