Yesterday started with a visit to the hospital to check on our new born grandchild and his novice parents. I was there in time to hear the pediatrician’s report. He declared the baby totally fit and having the calmest demeanor he had encountered in quite some time. We all agreed he might be resting up for the terrible twos.
I had my first one to one conversation with this young man while his paents were occupied with practical matters. He was twelve hours old and much more alert than when we were first introduced the night before. I bent low over the bassinet and babbled to him about the great childhood ahead of him. He looked puzzled and tried to focus on my face as he worked his mouth as though he was trying to learn to smack.
I left the hospital in my “woman with a mission” mode. I know what it’s like to take a new baby home from the hospital. The mother feels as though a truck has just run over her, leaving tire marks on her heart. Her hormone level is through the roof while the new father is in shock. They are on their own to raise this half-baked little person. It’s too bad babies don’t come with directions printed across their backs.
Such an emotional time requires vast amounts of comfort food. An hour later, I was headed home from the grocery; the car crowded full of food. The rest of the afternoon was spent unpacking bags, cleaning the refrigerator, and baking and cooking.
The weather in Memphis was heavenly. I kept the back door open to enjoy the fresh air. The sound of Sunday traffic from the main road a couple of blocks away sounded as soothing as rain on the roof or a babbling brook.
I browned chunks of beef and set them to stew in the crock pot with beef broth and half a bottle of red wine before tucking a chicken in the oven to roast. In the back of the fridge, I found a container of chicken fat left over from the last hen I baked. I put that in a pan and added chunks of yellow squash and celery and slices of mushrooms. Two heads of cauliflower were separated and mixed with Italian seasoning, bread crumbs and olive oil and then roasted. Every grandmother needs at least two ovens for just such occasions.
Our kitchen windows look out over the side yard where three hummingbird feeders are hanging. These birds will soon be migrating and are currently stuffing themselves in preparation for the long flight. I was entertained as I cooked by a steady swarm of hummingbirds swooping around our yard and feeding and resting briefly in the tall holly.
I will never forget this day of clear sunshine and joyous flight and promise for the future.