Well, actually I rarely see 5:00 a.m. unless I have to get up and make a pit stop, so far have I come from my Navy days -- those halcyon times of mid-watches, working all night, and reveille at 0600 every day including weekends when the entire deck department rolls out to swab down the main deck. Ah, the good old days!
But I digress.
I have improved over my recent past. Once I was diagnosed with Meniere's Disease -- and it hit me hard enough that I couldn't work -- I took to sleeping in, sometimes until 1000 or so.
Then I took over day care for my baby grand daughter, variously named Rebecca (her first name), Jordan (her middle name), Becca, or Pooh (so christened by me). She was five weeks old at the time.
Now, the thought of a 61-year old, disabled grandfather soloing day care for a 5-week old baby girl might cause you to hold your breath. Indeed, the first day her mom dropped her off I was resting (prone) on the sofa. After dropping off the baby Mom was quick to call my wife in a panic. "Mom, he was asleep on the couch!" Marilyn reassured her.
Now, morning comes at 0730. Most of you will consider that unbridled luxury. That gives me time to get up and conscious before Pooh comes somewhere between 0800 and 0830.
In the beginning, when Pooh was little, there was little fuss at the transfer of custody. Actually, there still is little fuss. As Pooh got older we developed a ritual. Pooh would sit on Mommy's lap while we talked to her. Then, when she was ready, she would lean over for me to take her. Transfer complete. Then Pooh and I would walk Mommy out to her car and wave bye-bye.
In the evening, when Mommy came to get her, Pooh would sit on my lap while Mommy talked to her. When she was ready, Pooh would lean over for Mommy to take her. Transfer complete.
Note that the transfer was Pooh's idea. On the very few days when we tried to hurry the transfer along, on either end, there was trouble. Pooh was not to be hurried.
Now, with Pooh nearing 21 months, we have a new system. Mommy brings her in and Pooh waits for me to say something like, "My baby!" She walks over and I pick her up and hold her in my lap. She starts waving bye-bye to Mommy, who departs. Occasionally we follow her to the door, but mostly Pooh wants to go into the toy room to watch Dora Explorer.
Evenings, Pooh wants to stay with me until Mommy actually picks her up to change her. At that point Pooh starts waving bye-bye to me.
I think it's wonderful that Pooh is happy to come and happy to leave. What better testament could you have for loving care in both homes?
We were out together, Pooh and I, a while back and a store clerk was amazed that I was taking care of Pooh. She was even more surprised that I watched her every day and had since she was 5-weeks old.
"What about diapers?" the clerk asked.
"What about them?" I replied. "I change them."
"Dirty diapers too?" Apparently this was too much for the poor woman to fathom.
"Nobody else around to do it," I replied.
"Well, she seems to be thriving," the clerk conceded.
Now, when we return to that store, the clerk points out to all and sundry, "He takes care of her all the time!"
I never bother to tell people I have prior experience. Not only did we raise three daughters, I retired after 28 years in the Navy. So I'm used to being bossed around. Just now, it's Pooh doing the bossing.
