Wednesday, Alma’s three children with spouses and kids arrive to celebrate Thanksgiving. The full house is chaotic. As an only child it’s a bit overwhelming. The siblings seem to have adopted me as a little sister. The children love Liberty and she enjoys little humans to entertain her, as well as, a second dog in the house.
I attempt to help Alma with the cooking but find her two daughters and daughter-in-law are much more proficient than me. I opt to help setting the table, corralling the kids, caring for the dogs, and taking care of the dishes. I take turns sitting at the kids’ table with Liberty and the adult table at meal times. Taylor’s two pre-teen daughters love caring for Libby. They claim they are practicing at babysitting.
While Alma, her oldest daughter Taylor, and youngest daughter Cameron begin work on the big meal Thursday morning after breakfast; her daughter-in-law Ava and I peel potatoes at the kitchen table.
Taylor informs our group, “My daughters are hinting they want a baby brother or sister now, thanks Madison.” Sarcasm laces her voice.
“I think that is a lovely idea,” Alma quickly responds.
“Seriously?” Taylor looks offended. “My daughters are almost grown, my career is on the rise, and soon we will have the house to ourselves. Why start all over with night feedings, diapers, and teething? I’d be fifty-eight when he or she would graduate high school. No thank you. They can just babysit and visit Libby to get their baby fix.”
I chuckle. Both of Alma’s daughters and her son are work-a-holics. Taylor meticulously planned the birth of her daughters barely twelve months apart after her two years of residency and prior to focusing on her cardio-thoracic specialty. Cameron is still single at thirty-years-old. She’s an editor with a large publishing house in Dallas, Texas. She works long hours and frequently travels.
“It’s Cameron’s turn to give you grandbabies,” Taylor informs Alma. “Trenton and I gave you two girls and two boys. It’s time she marries and spits out some little ones.” Taylor winks at me.
“First, I will not ‘spit out’ anything let alone a tiny human. You know for a physician you sure don’t talk like one. Mom, I think you wasted money on her education.” Cameron addresses Alma with the voice of a true youngest-child. “Second, I don’t have to marry to have a baby. When I’m ready, I’ll just have one.”
Alma’s sharp intake of breath and hand to her chest alarm me. I worry she doesn’t feel well. Cameron on the other hand, knows exactly what her reaction means. “Mom, I want nothing more than to meet Mr. Right, marry, and start a family. I need to inform you, finding Mr. Right is more difficult than walking through land mines. I seem to find the creeps and phychos. So, if I feel the strong urge to start my family, I’ll take care of it myself if a good male candidate isn’t in the picture.” Cameron smiles knowing this will not set well with her family.
“You must be looking in the wrong places. Have you tried online dating or Tinder?” Alma stands with hands on hips attempting to solve a problem for her youngest child.
“Mom!” Taylor shouts astonished.
Ava beside me spews her mouthful of iced tea all over the potatoes we’ve peeled on the table.
Cameron simply looks to heaven asking, “Why me?”
“How do you know what Tinder is?” All three women look my way instead of at Alma.
“Don’t look at me, I didn’t teach her about that app.”
“Please,” Alma addresses her children. “I watch television and movies, I read, I’m an educated woman, and I keep up on the latest trends. Besides two women in my Bible Study were chatting about their sons using Tinder to avoid long-term relationships and how they fear they will never have grandchildren. I came home and Googled it.” She points to Taylor and then to Cameron. “Your mother isn’t ready to be put out to pasture yet.”
Ava and I rinse the potatoes of her iced tea, then continue peeling. I love Alma’s ability to still surprise her daughters. I’ve often thought of her as twenty-five-year-old brain in her sixty-five-year-old body.
“Just so you know Tinder is for one-night-stands, mom, not finding a long-term mate.” Taylor states returning to her pie crust.
I excuse myself to check on Liberty while the women continue instructing Cameron on how to find a man. Libby sits on her blanket, she has a toy in her hand, I notice her head is bobbing slightly, when I am close I also note her heavy eyelids. My little girl needs a nap. The constant attention from the four other kids and two dogs is sensory overload for such a little girl. She lifts her little arms and hands toward me. I scoop her into my arms and we escape to the quiet of her nursery. Her head lays heavily on my shoulder up the stairs and into her room. While I change her diaper, she yawns and rubs her eyes with her chubby little fists.
Although she falls asleep quickly, I choose to rock her for several more minutes. I love Alma’s family and am happy everyone came to visit. But I’m off from school and I have very little time with Liberty as they all take their turns. I plan to steal a few loves right now. In here, I don’t have to make sure I smile at appropriate times—I don’t have to fake happiness. I let my guard down and enjoy my daughter.
I play with a few of her stray ringlets—I’m happy she has Hamilton’s dark curls. I gently run my fingertip over her eyebrows and little nose. She’s growing too fast. I can’t believe how big she is in my arms now. My baby is eight months old and crawling. This little one is very active as she explores and keeps Alma and me on our toes every day.
I place Liberty in her crib, turn on the monitor, and a sound machine, before I shut off the light and close her door.