There are no words to describe how helpful it has been to have my Mom and Stepdad’s help with my baby since she’s come into the world. Frankly, I can say with the utmost of certainty that I don’t know how I could have gotten through the first few weeks of motherhood without them.
But something scary happened yesterday.
My parents (sorry, it’s really annoying to keep saying “stepdad”) literally find reasons to watch her.
Like, “Oh, it may rain in your neighborhood tomorrow afternoon, we’ll take the baby.”
“There may be a Tsunami on the other side of the world but you’re 3 miles closer to that side of the world – we’ll take the baby.”
“Michelle, your husband mentioned you sneezed a few hours ago, we’re taking the baby!”
Do you see where I am going with all of this?
Don’t get me wrong- I love, LOVE the help. This willingness to take over has provided my baby daddy and I with many needed date nights, mornings to sleep in, and reason to not pay a babysitter.
But something upsetting happened yesterday.
This help is critical for the fact that I am a full time working mom, and when my daughter became too sick to go to school, my mom stepped in to help a few days a week with her care.
My mom takes pride in teaching her Spanish, showing her how to clean her kitchen, singing ridiculous songs about rice and milk and hands from god (in Spanish) that would sound crazy if translated to English, walking around her Miami neighborhood with my baby in tow and hearing “Oh, there’s no way you’re a Grandma, you look so YOUNG!”
I swear on all things holy that I am not exaggerating, not even in the least.
I am at peace knowing that when my child cannot be by my side, she will likely be with the only other people in the word that I know I can trust.
But then, yesterday, something happened.
Something that made my heart stop.
Something that made my ears burn with the kind of heat that can only come from sheer jealousy.
I went to pick up my gorgeous nugget baby after work and when I got to my moms, the baby was still napping.
I waited patiently for her to open her eyes, squeal with delight at the sight of my face and begin burying her little head in my neck, anxious for kisses.
Well, when she opened her eyes…
She glanced quickly at me, then darted her eyes back to my mother.
She looked back at me for one quick second, and just like that –
She smiled at my Mom and reached out for HER.
I was speechless. In shock. At a (rare) loss for words.
It got worse when my mom helped us out to the car, closed the door, and my child began CRYING for her Nonna.
I was like, “Um… hi, child… I gave you life, remember me?!”
But in that moment, my cell phone rang, and it was my own Grandma.
The only person on the planet I answer the phone for on the first ring.
The woman who is my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, and the reason why I schlep my baby up to Boca a few times a week.
And I realized, I sometimes preferred my Grandma to my own Mom (sorry, Mom)…
Because there is something so special, so unique, and so intimate about the relationship between a Grandmother and her Granddaughter…
…and my babe and I are both SO blessed to live our lives bathed in the love of our Nonna and our Nanny.