Surreal. And more surreal. The light is different. It's in the 60's outside, breezy and cloudy with a high expected of 82. Is 'it' over? Do we little rats dare peek out heads out of our hiding places?
Yesterday morning Logan arrived. Alison went into labor at about 2am. Classically, Justin was sick with a cold and had just fallen asleep after a hefty dose of Nyquil when it all started. And after a long and tiring night, they were awarded their son, and my grandson.
Is this real? It ocurred to me in the shower (things are always clearer to me in water, go figure) that yes, it is. I don't look like a grandmother. Don't feel like a grandmother. But yes, a grandchild is here.
It seems to me that people react to this news in one of several ways: They run. Really fast. Trying to beat "it" to some imagined point in the future. Some level of success or wealth or other. It's where balding men buy convertibles and have affairs with students. Or women go back to college or color their hair ...or buy convertibles and have affairs with students.
Some people, who were already running, stop. They realize the future they imagined is now the present, and they begin to live in it.
And some, who already had a grip on things, just continue to live their lives.
I'm firmly entrenched into group 2. I've heard my brakes squealing for awhile now. Still, the concept of grandparenthood must contend with the concept of parenthood. I do, after all, have a 5 year old. Interesting, that.
It's not a collision so much as an intersection. An interection of sets, different realities, one blue, one red, making purple where they overlap.
We haven't been to visit the new baby yet because we've had a bug. Last night Orion's fever went up. His skin was hot and dry and I spent the night giving him Motrin and water and keeping a cool washcloth on his head. The fever broke at about 4 and I fell into a fitful sleep curled up on the end of his bed. In the morning, I woke to hear Pete on the phone with Orion's kindergarten. He'd driven Aubrey to school, taken a big bunch of Poppets to the post office and was loading the dishwasher, performing as the other half of the parenting machine we are.
So yesterday I helped Orion with his kindergarten homework. Talked to Alison on the phone. She was overcome with happiness and love for her new baby. I could hear him coo and cry in the background. I talked to my son Phillip in Georgia, who's dealing with the complexities of being twenty-something---college, work, relationships, questions, questions, questions. He wants to teach history. His years in Korea opened his eyes. That there is a whole world out there that's not America. That there is a bigger picture. A lot to take in. I try to give him reassurance, good advice.
I want to be in three places at once. The purple overlapping part is rich and full.
I'm not running. I don't realize when I stopped, exactly, just that at some point, I did. I'm looking forward to the work ahead. I can see now why they call one's fifties "the golden years." Don't get me wrong! I'm in no hurry to be in my fifties!! But I don't mind that I'm going there.
Because I look forward to the work.
Anyway. whew! Lots going on around here.
I'm going to list the last of the Purple Poppets, Black Poppets and Blue Poppets for this year. There won't be any more of these until next year, simply because time needs to be spent on other work.
Your artist can make anything, but she can't make everything, not in the time allowed. And I want to keep surprising you.
New baby. New weather. New work. Everything changes.
Where am I?
I'm right here. Thanks for checking in.