Whenever babies are born, one of the main topics of conversation over them is who they resemble. "Oh, look, she has your eyes." "She gets her nose from her granddad." "He sure does look like his dad." Blah, blah, blah.... Let's face it, you see what you want to see. Most babies look some thing more like a cross between Winston Churchill, Yoda, and an iguana. Sure, they're cute little iguanas, but they haven't grown into their skin yet! (Note: I generally don't mention that in front of the grandmothers of the new babies. They usually are pretty good at hiding the bodies of people who say disparaging things about their grandkids.)But babies do have a beauty unique among humanity. Their tiny fingers, their small voices, their amazing little faces... usually, they're cute enough to keep!
Of course, this makes us reminisce about when our own kids were born. John, our first, was reluctant to make his appearance. He was getting rather large, so the doctor strongly suggested inducing labor. The first day, it didn't go very far. Nina had contractions all day, but not enough to really get things going. They said, "Go home, get some rest, and call us in the morning." Well, we didn't wake up until nearly noon the next day, and then called, and they said, "Come in tomorrow morning." So the next day, we got up bright and early and got down to the hospital, started the process, and after several hours, a couple of scary moments, and absolutely no death threats (my wife is a saint!), John finally made his appearance -- he came out with his eyes open, trying to figure out what was so good about the outside world that we would make him leave his nice, safe, warm womb.
Eight years later, he still hates being away from his mother.
Natalie, on the other hand, was ready to make an appearance. Nina went into labor on a Friday evening, and after a long night of walking around, warm showers, and not even an angry glance that made me wish for a death threat, Natalie tumbled out on Saturday morning. Yes, "tumbled." The midwife who delivered her had to practically catch her as she did a little flip and twist as she came out! Then the doctor who checked her out had a little bit of difficulty getting her to breathe. I was holding my breath, myself, until finally, nearly a minute after making a dramatic entrance, our little drama queen registered her first remark of disdain for the treatment she was receiving.
Five years later, she still think the universe revolves around her. I'm not sure it doesn't, myself, at this point.
Next week, Natalie starts kindergarten, and John starts third grade. Nina will surely have a tear in her eye, as her baby goes off to school, and our son launches into new territory. She's such a mommy.
I'll ponder the meaning of this new stage over a quiet cup of coffee, alone in the house for a few hours each morning.
Now, back to the neices. I'm very much looking forward to being an uncle to these two little darlings. The job of an uncle, for those of you who don't know, is to be the odd duck that makes the parents look normal. When going to meet them for the first time, I made sure I was wearing not only a Hawaiian-print shirt, but one with hula girls on it. It will be my job later on to teach them the correct nonsense words, how to blow raspberries, and to overrreact even more than their father will to the presence of young suitors, but not by being threatening or intimidating. The uncles are to be embarrassing. "Wanna see their baby pictures? How about their first pimples? I've got video of them taking a bath when they were four!!" Then, later on, when they're more experience in dealing with me, they'll learn to say, "Oh, that's just Uncle Tim.... he's harmless."
Being an uncle is a challenge. But I take on this challenge willingly, and with great enthusiasm.
4 comments:
I hardly think this qualifies as curmudgeonry. I sense a little grumpiness in the paragraphs about who babies look like, but not the sustained Andy Rooney crankiness that is required to be a curmudgeon.
All that aside, I like your ideas about being an uncle. Makes me think of my own uncles, around enough to spoil and amuse, but not long enough to change a diaper. ;-)
"Don't mind him, he's just weird Uncle Tim." That's the highest praise I can think of for an uncle. Enough of a parent to be obeyed, but enough of a friend to be able to go to the ballgame with and make raspberries at the opposing team.
How fun! Congrats to the uncle and everyone.
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