I thought I was so smart; the perfect grandmother— warm, wise, knowledgeable about American Girl dolls and able to repeat the lyrics to every Barbie movie produced.
Secretly I thought my daughter’s young friends all regarded me as witty and hip with just the right amount of grandmotherly knowledge at my fingertips, should anyone ask.
I was a total grandma show-off. Obnoxious might be a better description.
The appearance of twins changed all that. When my daughter and husband brought a little boy and a little girl home from the hospital, my granny status plunged to novice.
I first noticed this when all I could do was offer a few feeble answers to the desperate questions that new parents always have.
I did
know what to do with a four-year-old so I began slinking away when questions arose, helping Natalie go to bed or get dressed to play outside.
What did I know about twins? Nothing.
Swallowing my pride, I looked my daughter in the eye and uttered the humbling words, “You know as much about twins as I do. In fact, you know more.”
On my last visit to St. Louis, the twins were four months old and their parents were experts. I quietly stayed in the background.
My daughter handily dressed and ensconced both babies in car seats, which she then efficiently clicked into her mini van. We zoomed down Manchester Avenue to the mall where she wheeled the double baby stroller like a pro, hauling out bottles and toys from her fully packed diaper bag with practiced nonchalance.
I was impressed. She really knew what she was doing. She was even good at answering all the questions people asked.
I followed her like a baby duckling. Heck, she was the expert. I was the novice. But soon, my grandmotherly ego began to rear its prideful head.
“Why don’t you go ahead and shop, honey?” I offered in a syrupy voice as she maneuvered the giant stroller through Kids Pottery Barn. “I’ll take the babies out into the mall area. It’ll be easier for you.”
She fell for it, so with Natalie as my “sidekick,” I grabbed the stroller handle and clunked my way out of the store into the vast openness of the mall.
It was delightful. Everyone stopped to look at the babies. I basked in the glory and answered questions like a pro. If I didn’t know the answer, Natalie took pity and gave me prompts.
The babies’ round eyes took in everything, the noise, the lights, the little ears of their “kitty cat” hats bobbing as their heads turned.
I wasn’t perfect. The stroller creaked around corners. There was an occasional bumping of mall benches, but I never ran over anybody’s feet and only sideswiped one railing, and that was just a scrape.
I even managed to look blasé.
Obnoxious Grandma had returned.
An additional note:
If you are interested in more sourdough information (mentioned in a recent column) I’ve posted my old recipes on my blog: teapartypug. blogspot.com/
If that doesn’t work, email me at jdcrosby@hotmail.com.
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