My grandfather likes to (half-) joke that he couldn't afford to buy my grandmother gifts for her birthday or special occasions in the early years of their marriage ("early" meaning between years 1 and 45, I'm guessing, seeing as they were raising children for that entire period), so instead of perusing the gallery of farm-influenced kitsch, bric-a-brac, and tools on the "shopping strip" in Paw Paw, he'd just knock her up and give her a baby every year. This got me to thinking while I was in Rockford over the weekend. What did my grandfather do during all of those births? Did the whole entourage follow her en masse to the delivery room waiting area? Or were the good ol' days good enough that you could trust your eldest, maybe 9 years old, to stay at home and watch over the smaller ones, because Kevin wasn't into tractors and playing war and poking each other's eyes out as much as he was into playing dolls with my mom and therefore could be trusted to be left unattended for the hour it would take my grandmother to shoot out another baby, 'cause after that much practice, it doesn't really take as long? Were the neighbors really that nice, to take on the existing Moorehead clan while Grandma expanded it in the hospital? Or after the first five, did Grandma, once labor ensued, calmly pack her own overnight bag while Grandpa was out mowing the lawn, and leave a note on the kitchen table?
Dear Dad,
(yes, they took to calling each other "Mother" and "Dad")
Went to hospital to have Number Six. Be back shortly. Casserole is in the fridge. I'll do the dishes when I get back.
Love, Mother
Photos coming soon. Like, as soon as I get back from taking Maddie to school.
Posted by stephanie at April 25, 2007 07:22 AM