Once the nest is empty, life becomes more and more about ‘ me’ and maybe, a little bit about ‘us’. You have so many little routines, little comforts that you never had before, you make more time for hobbies and friends; you are a little disturbed when those patterns are broken. And then before you truly atrophy into those ruts, comes a grandson to swing you into routines you left behind many many years ago or never thought you’d be doing at all.
Bath time is one. I wouldnt have thought I had the courage to bathe a month old baby. Of course I never bathed my kids till they were several months old and people thought I could be trusted to do it.
Those were the days of steaming buckets of scalding water, organic powders and pastes, herbal medicines and old ladies doodling babies on their legs, the whole procedure designed to numb a screaming baby to sleep for hours.
Grandson and I are with it people. We have a large tub with a special seat that holds him contentedly seated while three handmaidens bustle around with warm water, judging his facial expression to see whether its too hot; soaping him with special baby liquid soap, talking to him all the time, and waiting to gather him into a towel and then rub him all over with cream. Grandchildren are for spoiling aren’t they?
The custom Ive been most glad to dispense with is the huge black dhristi pottu which really disfigures the baby’s pretty face and would frighten off any unloving eye.
Here we are almost two months later and we are pros now. Bath time is something that Advaith and I enjoy . Here is one very sleepy baby hanging over the edge of the tub.