A SLICE OF LIFE

Lori Borgman finds the funny in everyday life, writing from the heartland of the US. Now, if she could just find her car keys…

The prospect of being left in charge of four grandkids has given our columnist Lori Borgman the jitters.

We are waiting for a phone call. Our son and his wife are expecting their fifth and we agreed to watch the kids when they go to the hospital and stay until momma and the new baby come home. They live in Chicago. We live three hours from Chicago. Or sometimes four. Or five. You never know for sure. The kids arranged a back-up plan with a neighbour in case they must leave for the hospital before we get there.

We’re not worried. I always shake my foot like this while I’m sitting.

We’ll be fine as long as the baby doesn’t come during weekday morning rush hour, weekday evening rush hour, Sunday when everybody is flooding back into the city, or when they’re doing construction (which they always are) on the interstate.

What’s that? The husband says I have a facial tic.

This isn’t our first rodeo. When the last one was born, they called when our daughter-in-law was in labour and we made it with time to spare. They even waited another three hours after we got there before going to the hospital.

It took four months for all the fingernails I had bitten down to nubs to grow back, but it worked out great.

It’s going to be great this time, too. I’m looking forward to sleeping on the inflatable air mattress, the one that conducts cold air from the floor to your back in the wee hours of the night and partially deflates. Everybody needs to be tested, right? Nobody wants to be a softie.

As a friend says, “Live like you’re camping and camp like you’re stranded.”

We’ll be stranded all right – stranded and at the mercy of four kids in our care. Kids that run fast and jump high.

When the last baby came and we were left in charge, they played a little game called “Get Grandma.” Ever wake up with an artificial lizard in your face? How about a pirate’s mask? How about someone putting lipstick on you? Or hot breath whispering in your ear, “Get up, Grandma, we need pancakes.”

Grandma doesn’t need pancakes when she wakes up in Chicago; she needs strong black coffee and lots of it.

I love those darlings. I really do. Is anybody else hot in here?

One of them hid the house keys the last time we were left in charge and made us think we’d lost them. We searched high and low for an hour before a voice said, “You mean these keys?” and pulled them out from beneath a sofa cushion.

Grandma was not laughing. As a matter of fact, Grandma had to work real hard to keep her

When the last time we were left in charge, they played a little game called “Get Grandma.” Ever wake up with an artificial lizard in your face?

hands off him. He’s precious. They’re all precious.

My foot is tapping, my right cheek is twitching and I may need to open a window soon, but I’m not worried. Not in the least. We’ve got this. Piece of cake.

If I keep saying it over and over, maybe

I’ll believe it.