HOME PLACE - Grammie's first letter to the future 'Macster'

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Dear Malcolm,

I am your Grammie. Others know me as Sheila, Auntie Ann and Sweetheart.

Your mommy, of course, calls me "Mom."

But you will be the first person in the universe to officially call me Grammie.

Today you have been alive for 22 weeks, all of that inside your mommy. She found out about you awfully early -- when I was growing babies, we couldn't expect to know anything before six weeks or so. So, I was on the phone with your Uncle Ken (my baby brother -- you're gonna love him) and standing in front of my computer when an Instant Message chat popped up -- ask your daddy to explain what will be ancient technology by the time you can read this.

The little box boinged and your mommy wrote, "MOM."

I was on the phone, remember, so I ignored that first message. Then it was "MOM!"

Again, I kept talking. Your mommy can be, once in a great while, a teensy bit dramatic -- just so you know.

"TWO LINES, MOM. TWO LINES."

Here is where an inkling of what I might be seeing seeped into my brain. "I gotta go," I said to Uncle Ken. "Jori might be pregnant."

Your mommy and daddy had been hoping and trying and hoping and trying to make you for a really long time. It had started to look like we would never get a Malcolm. Or a Tess, when you were either a boy or a girl, wa-a-ay back a few weeks ago.

I called your mommy. We both spoke like tornadoes, all fast and whirly and confused. She couldn't tell if it was really two lines on the little plastic stick, or if she just hoped for those so much that she was seeing things.

"Take a picture and send it to me," I ordered.

It arrived on my computer screen in seconds, and your aunties and I gathered around the laptop. I zoomed in and there they were -- two pink lines, one quite bold about its presence. You were on the way.

I'm so sorry I knew before your daddy, but a girl needs her mom sometimes. And so do boys. And Mac -- as we like to call you, along with Macadoodle, Macalicius, Macandcheese and The Macster -- you will sometimes need just your Grammie and your Grandma when your parents aren't quite doing everything you'd like them to do. Remember that.

Your dad happened to be at a work party when your mom and I decided that, yes, this looked like the real deal. She sent the picture of the positive test to his phone.

He called. Really quick. "Is this what I think it is?"

Indeed it was, and now here we are, waiting for a Mac Attack in February. It just turned from summer into fall but your parents have your nursery painted and are debating floor coverings. Cloth diapers have been ordered and the choices for your crib (which is already set up) were weighed and re-weighed.

I suspect the high-chair discussion will be next. And the baby swing and the monitor system and your first set of Legos -- your dad is a mathematician/computer nerd and Legos will play a big part in your life.

Grandma and I are planning the first baby shower for your mommy. Which is very good, since we both need something constructive to do with our excitement. We have invited the guests, planned a menu and Grandma is ordering the perfect cake.

Your mommy, it has to be said, loves her chocolate cake.

Grandma has also been busy sewing custom curtains and crib sheets. I do not have those talents, Macman, so I am writing about you instead.

Get used to it.

Four hours away from where you will lay your little head, I will be talking about you all the time. Just like I will any siblings and cousins you end up with. But right now, there's just you.

So, sweet baby boy, I just wanted you to know these things. I think about you every single day. I ask God to make sure your Grandfather David gets regular updates. He is in heaven, you see, but he will also be a part of you. I know, it's hard to understand right now. You just need to know one word -- LOVE.

And, lucky Macarooni, you get a Poppi here, too. He's going to just eat you up, swinging you onto his shoulders, tickling your toes and making sure you know all about hunting. Those camouflage jammies in your drawer? Not my idea, but you sure are going to look cute.

So you just keep baking along, my little guy, and your family will be on the outside, trying to make the world perfect in time for your arrival.

Love,
Grammie

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