Yesterday was a rough day for us. Andrew left for Pennsylvania for a few days for work and Brighton, Emme, and I had to adjust to a new routine. Oh. And I got some plugged milk ducts that hurt like a mother, I had a headache all day long from being exhausted and dehydrated and probably the ducts had something to contribute, I was exhausted – Emme is going through a growth spurt (3 week) so all she wanted to do was eat. Every. 45. Minutes. 
However, I did get in a precious hour atDittos for breakfast and some much needed coffee. Now, you can always find ladies and gents there of a certain age – typically over 70. They go there for their daily fill of coffee or homemade pie. The minute I walked in with the carseat draped in pink in hand, I heard “Oh a BABY!” ”Oh…it must be a girl!” (duh) So I smiled and took my seat in the booth farthest from the cold doors. Then…I uncovered her. My shining jewel. As soon as the bundle me was lifted, squeals of delight echoed from the table diagonally across from me. Then…I removed her hat. Oh my god you would have thought I had uncovered the Hope Diamond – but no, it was just my daughters full head of hair. They squealed and cooed and one woman cradled her bosom as an infant and said “oh I just want to hold them all day long!” Again, I smiled, sipped my coffee, smiled at my baby girl and removed her from her carseat. Which prompted another series of “So small! oh so TINY!” and “How old is she?” and “Oh look at that hair!”
What is a girl to do? I know my girl is beautiful, I think she’s the cutest thing on the face of the earth, as I’m supposed to, I’m her mother. Me in my morning splendor of Brighton’s green, slightly too small skull ladened hat, hair not washed for three days, pajama wearing, lucky to have brushed my teeth that morning, really wasn’t in the mood to be social, but alas how was I supposed to react to a gaggle of grandmothers oohing and ahhing over my baby? So I graciously answered their questions and turned her round so they could see her sweet face. Eventually a few of them couldn’t take it any longer and lingered over to see her up close. Again, squeals and strokes of her cheek. They doted on her and cooed at her and let her grasp their weathered fingers. And Emmeline politely obliged them by opening her pirate eye first, then eventually both. Then the big yawn and a few grunts and squeals (no flatulence thank the gods…because she is a gas machine). 
As these Grandmothers stopped and visited my Emme, and I’m sure scoped me out as to what kind of a mother I was, I couldn’t help but be a little sad and a little curious as to how they felt when or if other people’s grandmothers did that to their children. And do they miss it? I can honestly say, having a baby and having kids is, thus far, my favorite time of my life. My heart is swollen to three times it’s size, I’ve felt love like never before, and I always always, think of my mom, who must have felt the same joy and love for me when I was a baby. I just wish she were around today so I could tell her how much I love her and that now I finally understand and I’m sorry for those godawful teenage years. But I can’t. So what I do is no matter how crappy I might feel, I indulge these lovely ladies who may or may not miss this stage of motherhood.
I love and miss you mom.
