I am heading to Brooklyn tomorrow – Sunday morning – to make my two-day pilgrimage to the Sacred Temple Of Grandparenting where Grandfathers and Grandmothers expected to go in a shower of rapturous, over-the-top love and joy.
How interesting it will be to come face to face with this new person in my life, who has been on the earth for two years, but has only seen me a few times. I am told that nature will take its course, and I suspect that is true.
Emma says she is a lot like her, God help her, but I wonder why, if this is so, that Emma was not exactly wild about my own willful self.
I come with several boxes of good stuff – a guitar, DVD player, books and DVD’s that I think may grease the wheels a bit.
I am taking her and her mother to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum and I will meet the reportedly affable new dog, Sandy, a Kentucky Cur that Emma still claims is mostly a Lab. How strange to see a museum without Maria.
I’ll bring back some Frida memorabilia, which will undoubtedly piss her off.
I will try not to annoy anybody while I am there, mostly by keeping my mouth shut and adoring this adorable child. But the hen, originally purchased for Robin, is gracing the head stand on my bed, where she is staying. I’m keeping her.
And I feel no guilt whatsoever. Robin has an apartment full of stuff, and I’m adding three shipped boxes to the pile.
I don’t have a name for her yet – I’m thinking Gertie – and would welcome any suggestions anybody out there has.
When all is said and done, I’m excited about the trip. I wish Maria was coming with me, but I always wish Maria was coming with me. It’s good to be apart once in a while, makes me appreciate her all the more.
But I need a name for the hen. Gertie is just one idea, she looks like a Gertie to me, but I’m open to other ideas.
Henny Penny (with the coppery hair!)
Love your new hen. Happy travel and fun with Robin & co.
Grandparenting is an entirely new world. I live in with my 10 year old grandson and his parents, and
VERY unexpectedly, it has become an amazing privilege. My daily challenge is letting him think he is the boss, all the while keeping things under control. We have great fun and a lot of laughs
Well, she’s definitely not a Frida.
I’ve always liked the name Estelle.
Gertrude — She is certainly too fancy to be Gertie,
Midge
The feathers sticking out all over and the skinny legs remind me of Phyllis Diller. She had that funny cackling laugh too, kind of hen-like. So I’d name her Phyllis.
She sort of looks like a “Marilla “ from Anne of Green Gables!
Henny Penny !
You have my permission to name her after my maternal grandmother, Henrietta. Hen-rietta, if you will. Gosh, I crack myself up sometimes.
Gertie she seems to you, so Gertie she is. Whatever her name, she’s yours.
If you were to die in the couple of years, Robin would have no memory of you at all. Her hippocampus won’t develop enough until three-four years old to give her the ability to recall memories. Certainly, infants deprived of nurture in first weeks / months have developmental / attachment problems, but Robin isn’t one of those unfortunate children. Her parents care for her daily: she is healthy in every way.
I’m 68: just about every woman, and many men, my age are deep into the grandchild thing, even friends I’ve known all my life, who expressed to me ambivalence, frustration, anger, along with love and optimism, about their children. We were friends, so conversations turned to: what’s up with you? – show me your latest artwork, let’s take the dogs out for a hike, I heard this new Thai place is great – want to try it?
Now my Facebook page is covered up with snapshots of grandchildren and commentary about grandchildren in every stage of development, from video of the birth (yes, that a thing), through “first latching-on” (that’s a thing, too) First Solid Food, First Steps. No more talk about artwork, hiking with the dogs, new Thai places,: just an expectation for a Facebook “like” for their most recent grandchild posting.
I have friends I’ve known for 60 years with single offspring in their mid-30’s who’ve told me: “If Jessica / Todd (generic names) don’t get married and give me grandchildren in the next few years, I won’t have a reason to go on living.”
So, you’re taking the grandfather thing with a grain of salt.
Good for you.
What was ed’s Hens name? I like Eloise. And Penny.
Gertie is a perfect name.
Have fun, Jon
What about Henrietta – for your new indoor hen
I rather like the Phyllis Diller idea, but I would call that one Diller. And with your talent as a writer, maybe write a story for Robin about Diller the hen. I can see it now. “Diller was scratching her way along a lovely bed of dirt, when she suddenly met this strange black beast. This guy kept calling him Bud…..”
FAB chicken !!