Baby Magic

You know, as you grow older you see things entirely differently than you did as a youngster. Suddenly, fifty doesn’t seem so old. We don’t feel it. We might look it, but we don’t feel it. . . yet . . . .

In my writing I mentioned my miserable plight in life living in a house without air conditioning, a house that went through a bad time period of renovation. I figured my life wouldn’t get better unless I moved out. My parents simply didn’t see how difficult life was. They thought it was perfectly alright for us to suffer in that house with only an attic fan to cool the place down. As young children we would play outdoors on our dead end street until parents called us to get inside out of the ‘night air’ before we got sick. We dutifully returned to the indoors, had baths and went to bed. What do you think we did when we went to bed??? We put our pillows on the old wooden sash of the open windows and went to sleep as the attic fan pulled that dangerous night air across our faces. No-one got sick. I figured that was a parental fib to get us in the house. Maybe there was an evil force lurking in the exterior air that the magical rusted window screens kept out. I dunno.

As I got older there were other dilemmas that appeared to destroy my life while I was incarcerated in this house with no modern amenities except the flushing toilet. Getting ready for a date was an orchestrated battle. I took a cold shower and washed hair in cold water. I wore as little under the housecoat as I could get away with so I wouldn’t sweat. Having a dad who was a deacon in the Baptist church meant I had to dodge him as much as possible or I would have to get fully dressed. I had the boyfriend timed to arrive at a specific hour. I was not one of those girls who was fashionably late. Late meant being in that house for a minute longer than hair or make-up could stand. I dressed in front of a fan blowing on my face so I wouldn’t melt like the witch in the wizard of oz. Sweat had the same effect on me that water had on Elphaba. Hair was done with lightening speed. I didn’t make that date walk as far as the front door. I was in their air conditioned car so fast I looked like a time warp blur on Star Trek.

That life was based on parental thinking. Here’s a classic example of how being a grandparent makes you think different. After my daughter was born, her father and I decided we needed a get-a-way weekend in August of 1978. It was decided that we would leave our 10-month old baby with the grandparents. A bed was set up in my parent’s room so they could monitor her at night. My sister, who is almost seven years younger than me, was elated that the baby was coming. The day of the trip dawned, and I handed precious cargo off to the excited hands of grandparents who would have total control for three days. I could have predicted that she wouldn’t sleep in the crib. I figured mom would sneak her into their bed and I would have to deal with that when we got home. I did NOT predict what actually happened.

We spent the weekend in Big Bend Park in Texas and couldn’t wait to get home to pick up Tina. Did I mention this was in August? In Texas? In Southeast Texas where the humidity can be 100% and not raining? Where you can fry an egg on the sidewalk? Okay, so you keep that weather report handy. And remember how I grew up sleeping with my pillow in the window so the attic fan would blow the dangerous night air across my face, and it took everything in my power to keep make-up from sliding off my face while dressing for any occasion. We returned from the long drive and arrived at my parent’s house in Bridge City. I figured something must be wrong. The front door was shut. The windows were closed. They didn’t tell me they were going anywhere. I was puzzled.

Since this was still in an era when few people locked front doors, we walked in. I remained curious as to why everything seemed different. My sister, who was still in high school, came bouncing up to me. The situation got stranger. She could barely contain herself and shrieked, “We got central air, we got central air, we got central air.” I looked at my parents. They had this strange, sheepish, guilty look on their faces. I asked, “What brought this on?” My dad stood and shuffled back and forth on his feet like a child about to confess to a crime. “Well, the first night you left Tina she tossed and turned and wasn’t sleeping good in the crib. We picked her up to put her in bed with us in case she was fretting about being away from her own bed and missing you. She was really warm and sweating. We just couldn’t let the baby sleep in a house this hot.”

For 18 years I suffered in that house, and the grandbaby spent one night sweating and my parents immediately shelled out $3,000 on central air!! I can’t wait till Tina has children. My turn is coming! When she starts to say things like, “Now, mom, don’t do this and don’t do that or you’ll spoil the baby.” Here, in writing, is my testament of how grandparents can do just what they want to do and na-na-na-na-boo-boo to you.