{"id":4294,"date":"2011-08-03T06:21:13","date_gmt":"2011-08-03T10:21:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/?p=4294"},"modified":"2011-08-03T06:21:13","modified_gmt":"2011-08-03T10:21:13","slug":"the-rider-chronicles-8-a-morning-stroll-with-rider-and-his-grandmother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/?p=4294","title":{"rendered":"The Rider Chronicles 8 – A Morning Stroll with Rider and his Grandmother"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sunday morning at Rider’s house and his grandmother, that dear woman I slept alongside these past hours, these past almost thirty years, and I were awake.\u00a0 Anxious to spend time with him, we both wondered if our grandson was also awake.\u00a0 As if reading our thoughts, sensing our desire to be with the child, out popped his\u00a0 bleary-eyed father bearing the bundle we had hoped for.\u00a0 After a few mumbled words of thanks to us for watching him (it had been a bad night), he headed back to bed.<\/p>\n

The two of us know, we feel, what baby care is all about.\u00a0 We did it with three babies, now adults, of our own.\u00a0 I remember that joyful task seeming at times not so joyful, spending endless hours comforting or lulling to sleep little ones who seemed to want to do anything but.\u00a0 Caring for Rider in dribs and drabs (at least for me; my wife has put in considerably more hours than I have) seems almost a lark.\u00a0 Maybe this is one of the joys of grandparenthood.\u00a0 <\/p>\n

We first took him outside to their open-air, second-story porch where, on past mornings, we have been able to entertain him for a nice, long time.\u00a0 Not today, oh no.\u00a0 He seemed restless and discontent early on.\u00a0 It was too soon to give him back to his parents, so we decided to do what any grandparent in similar circumstances would have done: we took him for a walk.\u00a0 I worried a tiny bit we shouldn’t be taking a fussy baby away from his mother, the source of nourishment and comfort, but we could always bring him back if the stroller ride didn’t do the job.<\/p>\n

I felt proud and competent and a little empowered, somehow, putting the stroller together, gathering his things (and him!), and setting off down the brownstone house-lined streets of the Brooklyn neighborhood they live next to.\u00a0 We stopped at a coffee shop for two cups and a bagel, and continued on.\u00a0 I wanted people to stop and look at the baby, to ooh and ahh, and say, oh how cute he is, your son is so sweet…. what?,\u00a0 he’s your grandson!, but no one did.<\/p>\n

Early in the stroll, Rider fell asleep.\u00a0 That meant we got to take a longer walk up and down the picturesque streets and finally to a park, so we could sit for a bit and eat our bagel.\u00a0 Though we pushed our own children in strollers scores and scores and scores of times, this morning felt different, felt new.\u00a0 What a unique privilege and joy, caring for a baby, especially when the child is related to you.\u00a0 It didn’t at all get old to look down into the stroller and see sleeping Rider.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

...then comes grandpa with a baby carriage!<\/p><\/div>\n

At the park we sat on a bench, sharing the bagel, chatting about this and that, and taking turns keeping the stroller gently moving back and forth, back and forth, so the sleeping little one would stay that way.<\/p>\n

We finally headed home, glad for the time together and with our grandson.\u00a0 His parents were glad for the extra sleep.\u00a0 I realized I was looking forward to times\u00a0 when he’s older and can do more than sleep in a stroller, like slide down a slide and be pushed on a swing.\u00a0 Yes.\u00a0 I’m ready to play with Rider in the park.\u00a0 I’m sure that day will arrive very soon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sunday morning at Rider’s house and his grandmother, that dear woman I slept alongside these past hours, these past almost thirty years, and I were awake.\u00a0 Anxious to spend time with him, we both wondered if our grandson was also … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[527],"tags":[649,648,637],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4294"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4294"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4294\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4488,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4294\/revisions\/4488"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4294"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4294"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thelifeliterary.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4294"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}