Gramma Nonny

Nonny was here for almost two weeks and I only have a handful of pictures to document her existence in our world. Hubby took these few pictures, at my insistence, the day she left, right before he drove her to the airport. Gabe was already at school and I was already at work. Pathetic, is it not?

While Nonny was here, she stayed home with the kids and their new Nanny-type, Rebecca (known to Quin as Wo'becca). She taught Rebecca where to find all our sundry household items and taught her the complicated system we have whereby Quin cannot ingest dairy products and Gabe can, but Ribh drinks breastmilk AND they all can now have milk sometimes, but only if it's the super crunchy non-pasturized, non-homogenized, practically-dripping-right-off-the-cow kind which I drive 45 minutes every other Sunday in order to get.

Nonny kissed the kid's skinned knees and pushed the kids on the swing, and made them snacks, and read the same old books aloud over and over again. She brought a magical suitcase from which she extracted small gifts like stickers and note books and animal pencils on a daily basis. She endured their squirming bodies in her bed, in her bath, on on her lap any time she sat still long enough to make one.

That final morning, as I drove to work , I was thinking about how much fun she was having with the kids, playing with them, seeing all their little idiosyncrasies and listening to them talk. (And talk. And talk.) I thought about much time WE had managed to squeeze in to talk and how she had let me run on and on about my new job and new challenges and lack of sleep and the crazy circles my brain keeps looping through.

I thought about how Nonny made the transition period from full-time stay-at-home Momdom to full time (actually much more than full-time when you count my commute) working mom so much less traumatic for all of us.

I had thought her whole visit was really all about being a hands-on Gramma for her grandkids so far away in Georgia, and all this time she was really just being a Mama. Because she knew all along what I had forgotten: Even her grown up, independent, doctor-type kid so far away in Georgia needed her Mama.

She was just being MY Mama and showing her love for me in all her small kindnesses like mending and button-sewing and dinner making. Because being a Mama is forever.

And then I missed her so much it hurt, and she hadn't even left for the airport yet.

I love you, Nonny. *Sniff*