Day 69 & 70 Ahead of My Time

When I was about 16, a friend of mine told me that I’d make a great grandma one day. This person was petite, blonde, vivacious and popular, everything I was not, and her comment did not exactly boost my self-esteem. I’d have been thrilled to have a boyfriend, or at least boobs, and there she was, leapfrogging me over all the fun stuff, straight to cardigans and support-hose.

But it’s okay, I heard she ended up teaching in a one-room schoolhouse in black-fly country somewhere. Karma’s a boomerang.

However, 30-odd years later, I think I’ve grown into the sentiment. I can see how having another baby – one that’s mine but not mine, if you understand what I mean – could be pretty nifty. And my brother and his wife have just thoughtfully provided me with a second baby niece, as of last week. Sophie, sister to Isabel, and I can’t wait until they’re all closer than Taiwan. Grandma might be a ways off for me yet, but I’m rather enjoying being Cool Auntie Roxanne.

Yesterday, we had Easter dinner with all three of our daughters, plus assorted friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, and for good measure, our nephews and my husband’s sister, too. My nephews are handsome, strapping young men, who seem to genuinely enjoy our company and who are a pure joy to cook for. The food, if I say it myself, was spectacular. BBQ ribs, beer-can-chicken, vegetarian lasagna, my husband’s famous Greek salad, bread, cheesecake… sorry, South Beach people. Too bad for you.

It felt so good, so right, to have a houseful of young people, all eating and laughing and happy to be with us. (Liam, we missed you. Steven, especially. I think he cried a little. On the inside.)

Now, I’m no Martha Stewart, and I couldn’t feng shui my way out of a bag. Plus, you know that whole clean-house-weak-immune-system theory? Not a problem here. In fact, keep your shoes on, just to be safe.

But it seems that despite the inevitable dust and cat hair, our house can be welcoming and comfortable. I’ll never be a Dresden-china sort of person and there will probably always be four-legged creatures claiming the best seats but as long as my children feel good about bringing their friends around, it’s good enough for me.

And if, perchance, someone happens to bring a baby around, nudge, nudge, I’ll even wash the floor. I promise.