I never dreamed I would become one of THEM! The ones who think theirs are the best, are constantly bragging and shoving pictures in your face. You know the ones I’m talking about. Grandparents!
I tried to fight the stereotypes, but failed. Because I know the truth. My darling granddaughter and grandson are the most beautiful, talented, and delightful grandchildren on the planet.
I just returned from a two-week trip to the states to be at the birth of my second grandchild. I arrived in Texas on Thursday afternoon, and at 4 a.m. on Friday we were headed to the hospital where my daughter-in-love was scheduled for a c-section. Jet lag was not an option.
Oh my goodness, nothing can compare to my first sight of this newest member of our family. Darling grandson was strong, healthy and had a head full of downy soft brown hair. He passed his first test with flying colors with an Apgar score of 10! He was beautiful.
Later on, as we unwrapped him to count all his fingers and toes, I noticed the baby had an unusual-looking band around his ankle. “What's this thing on the baby’s ankle?” I innocently inquired.
“Oh, it’s a baby Lo-Jack,” my daughter-in-love nonchalantly explained.
“A baby what-jack???” I was horrified. What had my darling grandson done to deserve an ankle monitor? He was only one hour old. Had he kicked too hard in utero? Was it punishment for having a perfect Apgar score? Had he scratched another newborn in the nursery? Peed on a nurse?
My kids finally took pity on me and explained that this device was a monitor to protect the baby from abduction. I could see their mouths moving but the noise coming out sounded like Charlie Brown’s schoolteacher – blah, blah, blah and blah. Images swirled through my mind of a teenage grandson with a cigarette dangling from his lips, holding a beer and wearing a monitor on his ankle. Don’t the probation officers call it a tether…
Finally, I snapped out of my daydream, and began to hear real words. It turned out the monitor is part of the HUGS security system. Now, Hugs was a sweet word that I could relate too, unlike the term “baby Lo-Jack” which was totally outside the realm of my experience.
About the time my heart rate returned to normal, the nurse entered the room. She explained that she was there to give the password for the day. We were not to allow any nurses or other people to take the baby from the room unless they knew the password.
My blood pressure began to rise. Oh my goodness, what WAS the password? Wonder if I forgot it and let the wrong person run off with my darling grandson? I can’t remember my own phone number, how was I going to keep track of a daily password. Hmmmm, maybe I could write it on my wrist and keep it covered by my shirtsleeve….
It was such a relief when my sweet grandson was released from the hospital. Finally, we could all hold and spoil him to our heart’s content.
And I could wash the password off my wrist.