Monday, December 22, 2008

The Baby Who Came To The Meet

So, last Friday night, there I was-at a wrestling meet-doing my usual thing. Sitting with boys and my husband and the usual crowd of parents who have become friends after hours and hours of gymnasium sitting, concession duty, and pancake breakfast flipping.

I think I’ve mentioned that I’ve been pretty melancholy lately. Our son is a senior and while there were many, many times over the years I ‘couldn’t wait for him to grow up’ now that he has- I’ve been feeling a little blue. He’ll be going to the University of Alabama next year. It's GREAT for him. It feels a little far for me.

Anyway, there I was, sitting and wincing as some kid’s nose started bleeding. (really, I never imagined myself watching such things!) when a girlfriend plopped a baby in my lap.

Yep. A baby!! And a baby girl, at that! She was tiny-just eight weeks old-and she was asleep and wrapped up in so many cozy layers that she looked like a pink and yellow penguin. She smelled sweet and cute, too!

That baby was kind of a 'surprise baby'. My girlfriend’s oldest had a baby a little unexpectedly early, you might say-and now she’s on grandparent duty a bit earlier than she ever imagined. For all of us wrestling moms and dads, that little thing was truly magical. See, for all of us there, it had been over a dozen years since even our youngest kids were hold-able.

Even my senior son smiled at the way I fussed with the little girl’s tiny foot, oohing at those tiny toes, then covering them up just so. And somehow I began that little rocking sway that had been dormant for fifteen years.

Now, suddenly, in between yelling for ‘pins’ and wincing at injuries, the whole crew of us were playing a delightful game of Pass The Sleeping Baby. What a joy that was! She was light! She molded to our bodies! She sucked that pacifier like nothing you ever saw!

Then the inevitable happened. She got tired of our fussing and woke up, stared at the strangers, and promptly let us know that a wrestling meet was not her thing. Not one bit.

We did what you might expect then. We passed that baby right back to her grandma.

Late that night I went to sleep thinking about that little girl, and about my daughter who’s almost sixteen. And, of course, I thought about my boy who now has been taller than me for a couple of years. Thinking about what a joy they are. What miracles they’ve been to me. How much happiness they’ve brought.

So, during this wonderful Christmas week, I hope that each of you has someone to hold on to, too. Even if just for a bit. In the end, family and friends are really all that matters. Merry Christmas, and God bless!



Anonymous said...

Merry Christmas Shelley.

Estella said...

My Christmas is all about my two young grandsons, ages 3 and 2.

Merry Christmas, Shelley!