Grandparenting
It’s a great feeling being a grandfather. Holding the new-born of your progeny in your hands opens the floodgates not only in your tear ducts, but also on the cache of long forgotten memories of the infancy of your own child which submerge you completely. You remember vividly how your own child looked at that age and how the grandchild looks exactly the same but still totally different. You also reminisce how your own child was an angel whereas the latest addition to the clan never seems to stop bawling. Soon enough, however, you realise that it may not really be so. Fact is, on one hand your tolerance for sleep deprivation has waned considerably, in inverse proportion to the spreading midriff and the receding hairline; on the other, your anxiety levels have risen steeply. So initially, every groan and every howl of the tyke may fill you with deep concern bordering on panic. You, however, slowly adjust to the altered sleep patterns, frequents bouts of the child’s crying and inverted priorities. Going for the morning walk gives way to cuddling and humming to the little devil, who seems to come into her own only at 4 in the morning. The baby’s bath becomes the most important event of the day. Watching a one month old whooping in joy at the sight of the bathtub is the greatest joy in the life of four adults. If the child can go through the entire bathing ritual without crying, we keep talking about it ad nauseum till the child excels herself with a better performance.
You marvel at the steady progress made by the child every day. Every shake of the clenched fist and every kick of the legs seem like an act of extraordinary intelligence, every look is full of prescience and the child is soon declared extremely precocious. And if she happens to respond to your silly cooing and clucking sounds on more than one out of 10 occasions, she is an absolute genius. Everyone in the family feels that the child smiles only for him/her and all the adults start behaving most childishly to attract the child’s attention.
Some things have, however, changed beyond recognition. My daughter (the new mom) is always on the prowl with a bottle of hand sanitizer and douses your hands liberally with it before you can lay a finger on her daughter. Extra stretchable diapers, wipes and the baby’s party dress for the naming ceremony (with matching mitts, booties, bib and a rose bedecked head band) and many other interesting things are ordered on line by the mother while she is feeding the girl on a strap-on cushion. The new mom is also surfing the net often to decide on the right time to start her tummy crunches and cardio workouts. Grandma’s remedies and wisdom have been completed supplanted by the internet. So no gripe water for the baby’s colic pains, no mugli-ghutty, no talcum powder and no water for 6 months. I shudder to think what will happen when the child starts crawling about, putting things in her mouth and playing with her toys.
Gotta go. As usual, the baby has done her thing at the least opportune time; when the grand mother is having her bath, the new mom is having her first meal of the day and this is that rare occasion when the baby is not girdled with a water absorbent nappy. The baby is howling in anger. The cradle is full of crap all over. I don’t see any sign of the ubiquitous baby wipes. I pick up the baby and carry her to the wash basin. Alas! Some things never change.
