Mommy Blog

Evicted!

in Giggles on August 1, 2024

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks.

I have officially reached the pinnacle of parenting: Grandparenting.

On July 17th around 10:45am, my oldest son and his lovely wife welcomed their first child into the world.

Waylon Micheal burst into the world with strong lungs, ten fingers, ten toes and a double chin.

The week before his arrival, I arrived in New Mexico to help with his preparations. I was there to lend a hand in housework, meal prep and to generally keep the mother-to-be sated. We cleaned baseboards, because according to my sweet daughter-in-love, Waylon would absolutely notice dirty baseboards (insert giggle and eye roll). We watched mindless trash tv. And, we walked.

And walked.

And walked.

And then, we walked some more.

All the times we walked, Adeline would tell her growing belly, “Get out! It’s time! I cannot breathe.” And occasionally, she tossed in my favorite of her phrases, “You’re about to be evicted.”

I realize to those of you who might not have had the pleasure of experiencing pregnancy, those words sound a bit harsh. I get that. Please trust me when I tell you, they’re not. A typical pregnancy lasts for about forty weeks. That’s right: Forty weeks. Once you reach week thirty-three, or so, the word uncomfortable takes on a whole new meaning. After week thirty-six…comfort is a long-forgotten urban legend. At any given time after week thirty-six, you have anywhere between six and eight pounds of wiggling, squirming gymnast, sitting on your bladder and playing kickball with your lungs. Your skin is stretched so thin, you fear it will burst open from the strain. Pregnancy is wonderful and miraculous, but also extremely taxing and unbelievably hard on the body.

I arrived in New Mexico in the middle of Adeline’s thirty-sixth week. She was miserable. And, she was more than ready to meet the little man that she’d been building for the last nine months. So, we walked in order to get the guy a bit closer to his eviction date.

I have had my own children. I sat through biology and health classes. I’ve seen every episode of Call the Midwife (at least twice), so I’m fairly well-acquainted with the birthing process. All of that aside, I was unprepared for the absolute awesomeness associated with bringing a new life into the world. It was incredible to witness her innate instincts take over. It was beautiful to watch my son, my first-born, morph into an undeniable full-grown man right before my eyes. And then, to see my grandbaby…to hold him…It was utterly surreal.

It was comical to watch the two brand new parents struggle, and lose, to a diaper…actually…multiple diapers, in one changing. It was even better watching them—both of them—try to dress their tiny human. It was wonderfully special to be able to take the night shift and just sit and stare at this precious angel throughout the night, so that Mommy and Daddy could sleep in peace. It broke my heart to load up my truck and leave them behind to come back to Houston.

I was woefully unprepared for that particular moment.

So, now, here I sit; finally organizing my thoughts well enough to share them with all of you. I am eagerly awaiting my next trip out West; which incidentally, is in six days. I imagine that I will be burning up the highways between here and there…who knows, I may even brave the ice and snow in the winter months to get to him! Check that: I will most definitely brave the elements to get to him! After all, I drove through hurricane Beryl to make sure I was there for his arrival! What’s a little snow?

So far, overall, I give grandparenting five stars. Highly recommend.