There's A First Time For Everything

fresh out of the oven and just look at those fingers.

Having been able to spend so many "firsts" with my grandson, Brayden, during his first year on this earth was nothing short of wonderful. I lived near by and I saw him often. Caring for him on a daily basis after my daughter, Lisa had to return to work was just one enormous blessing after the other. I soaked up every minute of every day. That year did not fly by because I would not allow it to. Year One is chock-full of "firsts". Their first smile, first tooth, the first time rolling over, crawling and, the big one, taking that amazing first unassisted step.  A baby's first year is filled with one long and continuous "Bravo!" followed by loud and glorious applause. Lots and lots of applause. "Firsts" are milestones. "Firsts" are what we remember. Shoot, Hallmark must make bank on baby journals and brag books alone that mommies and grandmas fill up with sweet memories of the very first time that perfect little person did anything. 

first Christmas

There were times, I admit, that I was scared to death I'd witness Brayden accomplishing a very significant "first" before his mommy saw it. That would have killed me. That would not have been good. I've been where my daughter is at, so I get it. But to be perfectly honest, if I had seen it, I'd never admit to it anyway, so who's to know, right?

crawling!

My point is, after waiting so very long for this perfect little miracle child rolled up into a bundle of dirt and giggles I find myself living almost 800 miles away, navigating my way through so many "firsts" I've already sailed through; like the holidays and birthdays and countdowns to nap time. And then there are the gobs of new and precious other "firsts", like learning to say "please" and "night-night". "Firsts" that melt my heart and make me get all weird and sappy and smiley while I'm in the grocery line remembering the FaceTime we shared the day before. And hearing him call me Gramma, which sounds much different to you than to me.

back pack - back pack

This has all come to mind because yesterday Lisa sent me this collage picture of Brayden. My Little Bear. He's just had his first haircut, a "first" that I was not there to see, and she and Sam  are in the process of planning a vacation that will accommodate an extremely curious and active toddler. Brayden's first vacation. Thus, the back pack, which attaches to a leash which attaches to a parent in order to prevent this bold little explorer from falling overboard from the ship they will set sail on. The back pack looks like the one owned by Dora the Explorer, his first beloved cartoon character. But look at him. He's so small. He looks like a little Kewpie doll with cool sneakers. He may be in the 99th percentile for height, but he's a baby! And I am mesmerized by his little hands. I could watch those pudgy fingers in action all day long. 

happy first birthday, little man

Well, that picture must have really touched a deep chord inside me because after I saw it I immediately wanted to call my mom and tell her to check her email for pictures I would be forwarding. I wanted to tell her all about that baby boy and his new back pack. I wanted to hear her smiling through the phone over every little detail of my brilliant grandson's expeditions. And I wanted to hear her say how big he's getting and how much he looks like my Lisa. I wanted to retell the stories with that profound pride that only a grandma can feel and not be thought guilty of being prideful. I knew she'd glow with me, and agree that something he had done was just so darling and precious and, of course, much funnier than it really was to the average person. 
Yeah, I missed my mom yesterday. Big time. I've done a lot of "firsts" without her already, but that was a "first" of a whole different genre. I wasn't just missing my mother. I was missing the one person who would gush over that little Kewpie kid with the back pack and make me feel like it was all the more real because she knew. What is it about moms that make us care like this and often cling to their hearts?

she would have loved him so much

mom and me

Love can be crazy and unpredictable. It carries a bond that, quite simply, can not be broken. No matter how old I get, there are (and will continue to be) moments and events that cause me to, without even thinking, catch a glimpse of my mom's face with a tender smile and immediately yearn to share with her the most important part of my life right now. I wonder, do you think she can she see it all from heaven? I don't know. I think she's pretty occupied with all the basking in the glory of Jesus and decorating her new home up there. But it's heartwarming to know that if she were here she'd be loving all over my grandson and gently patting his little legs and saying to anyone who could hear, "God love it!". I can see it now. And I know that sissy can too. I know this because when I tell her about my brilliant grandson, I can hear her smile coming right through the phone.  ~Susan