That's my role. I'm not in charge of anything. I'm not responsible for anything. My job is to pickup the slack.
Their Iowa friend had already called the bagel shop by the time I arrived. No, they don't deliver, as he'd requested, but I was happy to take the lox and bagels we both knew Little Cuter had craved for nine, cured-fish-free, months. The cashier wrote a love note on the brown sack containing our breakfast; it's impossible to avoid the joy a newborn brings.
I watched the pediatrician examine and the photographer photograph and then I left the kids alone. Bonding is easier when you're not worrying if Mom is comfortable in the upright chair. I spent a lovely late morning on the porch, reading Jane Eyre.
The beauty of visiting the home of an English major is that there is always something wonderful to read. I'm starting at the top right corner of the guest room bookshelf; by the time Flapjilly graduates from high school I should be finished with the tomes on the second floor.
I offered to bring them lunch and received an order for Chipotle by text. Google Maps brought me to the general vicinity; my eyeballs managed to find the restaurant on the left despite the voice from my phone insisting that I turn right. I was the only patron, so fumbling with an unfamiliar order didn't disturb anyone. The burrito maker was delightful; she laughed at my feeble attempts to be coherent. I explained that I was a brand new grandmother, that the food was for the brand new parents, and suddenly there was a lot more cheese on the food. With congratulations ringing in my ears, I delivered the foodstuffs, ate my burrito, and left them alone.
I went to the grocery store, but my intention was to give them space. Being a long term houseguest requires attention to such things, I think.
After the lactation counseling and the post-natal testing and the mom check up they loaded the car with their clothes and laptops and cameras and blankets ... and the baby. SIR installed the car seat perfectly; the firefighter who checked it last week was quite impressed. Flapjilly must have liked it too; she slept all the way home.
And now, four hours later, she's still asleep. Thomas the Wonder Dog is quite curious about her, but even his almost-but-not-quite intrusive sniffing doesn't disturb her. She's supposed to eat at least every four hours, but I'm sticking to the "never wake a sleeping baby" mantra G'ma recited to me when I was a new mother.
Of course, as soon as I typed that sentence she began to cry.
I made my own daughter a grilled cheese sandwich and green beans on the side. I loaded her dishwasher and tried not to annoy her by answering questions not directed my way. The dog is protective and SIR is attentive and this first evening at home will be over soon.
It's your first everything, little one, and our's too. We're doing the very best we can.