Erma Bombeck on Grandparents

The neat thing about having your first baby is that you have done something that no one has ever done in the history of the world: given birth. God only knows how all these other people got here . . . maybe by bus . . . but this child which you hold has actually been conceived, grown inside you, and been born by sheer miracle.

No one feels the impact of the “manager syndrome” more than grandma. I observed a new mother at the airport the other day who was going on her first trip away from her baby, leaving Grandma holding the hope of the free world. “Be careful now. You have to support their little necks because their muscles haven’t developed yet. Here, just put your hand under it like this.”

Grandma: “I remember.”

“And cover her face. All these children running around here coughing and hacking like Germ City. You don’t know where they’ve been.”

Grandma: “Right.”

“Did Daddy set up the crib? I hope it’s not under the air return. It dries up their noses and they can’t breathe. You can tell if the room is dry. If it is, just put on a small panful of water or run the vaporizer.

Grandma: “You got it.”

“And don’t forget to burp her after every meal. Those air bubbles are painful. She’s not like other babies. She never cries . . . only when something is bothering her. So check. If course, she could have leaky plumbing if you catch my drift.”

Grandma: “I caught it.”

“I see absolutely no excuse in this world for diaper rash. Did you get the special diapers and special milk? And you did put the dog in the kennel? Remember only fresh vegetables, hand mashed. Remember, Mom, they don’t test them on their tongues any more. Let’s see, you’ve got the name of the pediatrician, my number, diaper service, hospital emergency, all-night druggist and . . .”

Grandma: “They’re boarding now.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Oh, and remember, Mother, no soap – use the cotton tips with a little oil for those fatty folds in the legs, and no patty-cake at bedtime. She gets too worked up. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

The door closed. The plane took off. Grandma slung the kid over her shoulder easily and said softly, “Hang onto your booties, Baby, you and Grandma are going to have the time of our lives. How about a slice of pizza with everything?”

from 1965 to 1996, Bombeck wrote over 4,000 newspaper columns chronicling the ordinary life of a Midwestern suburban housewife with broad, and sometimes eloquent humor. By the 1970s, her columns were read, twice weekly, by thirty million readers of the 900 newspapers of the U.S. and Canada.