Congratulations to me: I am now an aunt. On March 18
th of this year,
my brother and sister-in-law had their first child, who they immediately started
to mess with by naming Boden Kodiak Medow.
In
my head, I call him Bodie Kodie.
Boden
is the new love of my life.
Certain that I will never ever ever want to get pregnant or have babies
myself ever ever again, I am
delighted that others in my family want to do this for me. My plan is that they will do all the
heavy lifting so that I can do much of the holding.
My
plan has gone according to plan, because holding Boden is exactly what I did
for the better part of a week at the end of April. I got on a plane to San Francisco and left Brett in charge
of our 6 and 10 year olds so that I could change diapers and stay up half the
night with my newborn nephew.
Except
that my sister-in-law, Ursula, had slightly different plans for Boden and me. She is trying to train Boden to sleep
without being held, and to learn to self-soothe in the crib. I believe in self-soothing, really I
do. The ability to dig deep and
find inner peace is a great skill to have when you are fired from a job or when
you get a bikini wax. But it is
not something I think a 5-week-old baby needs to master. Don’t get me wrong; I
know how desperate new moms are for some peace and quiet, having been one
myself. But since then, I’ve
trained two kids to sleep and pee and poop at the right times and in the right places
and so I know it all works out fine in about five years.
Which
is why I held Boden a lot. Perhaps
even a bit more than his mommy wanted me to. I held him when Ursula took a shower, and when she did some
laundry, and while she mixed his bottles.
I held him through an entire “I Love Lucy” marathon on The Hallmark
channel, which reminded me how much Brett and I are like Lucy and Ricky and how
much I like holding sleeping babies.
Boden and I also watched a bunch of “Friends” episodes as well as some
great “Barefoot Contessa” shows, in which Ina Garten throws small dinner
parties for her friends in the Hamptons.
What
a perfect vacation. Watching as
much television as you want and not feeling guilty about it - while you snuggle
with a cooing relative that doesn’t resent you yet for anything - is a lovely
escape from the real world.
The
other great thing about babies is that they love to be sung to, and I love to
sing. It’s the ideal relationship,
a natural yin and yang. Many
times, after Boden had his bottle and was burped, I would get down to the
serious business of rocking him to sleep with a song or twelve. At first, I was shy, softly murmuring
“Hush Little Baby” and “Leaving On A Jet Plane,” two of my own children’s
favorites, while holding him in his bedroom. But by day three, I got bolder, breaking out the show tunes
and moving into the public space of the living room.
You
need to know this about me: before I was a teacher and a mom and a writer, I
was a musical theater actress. My
love of acting out dramatic renditions of musical numbers began the moment I
saw the movie “Grease” at the age of 8. My mother bought me the record, and I listened to it over and
over again until I was Sandy. At least once a week, I would have a playdate
with my friend Lisa who was forced to play Danny Zuko to my Sandy, no taking
turns, no backsies. My reasoning
for this was that Lisa was dark haired like Danny and I was light like
Sandy. Plus, she was an alto and I
a soprano. Also, it was my house.
Eventually,
I grew less bossy, but never less passionate about musical theater. Due to a wonderful lack of judgment on
my mother’s part, I saw “A Chorus Line” on Broadway when I was about nine and had
memorized the entire original cast recording of “Hair” by the time I was 10. She wouldn’t let me see the movie because of the brief
nudity, but I was allowed to listen to all the dirty words and sing along with
gusto.
At
Edgemont High School, I enjoyed a career as a musical theater gleek, beginning
with, poetically enough, the role of Jan in “Grease” in the 9th
grade. Travelling to and attending competitions with the chorus and the a
capella choir are some of my fondest memories of high school. And on Saturday nights, there was
nothing my friends and I liked better than to break into four-part harmony
while gathered around a keg in someone’s backyard. (This sounds a lot uncooler than it was.)
Lucky
for me, my nephew Boden apparently loves a good show tune, because I am in
possession of a lot of them. When
he was particularly fussy, I sang over his cries with jazzy renditions of “It’s
a Hard Knock Life,” and “Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat.” Both of these gave me ample opportunity
for dramatic stomping and swaying.
I highly recommend them if you are ever in the company of an
ill-tempered infant.
Oh,
we had fun, Boden and I. We worked
our way from Gershwin to Rodgers and Hammerstein and Rodgers and Hart. We hit Andrew Lloyd Webber hard, got
political with Le Miserables (because what child doesn’t find “Castle on a
Cloud” performed with a faux-British accent soothing, I ask you), and then
moved on to “Rent” and “Wicked.” Following
my mother’s good example, I even sang him a few tunes from “The Book of
Mormon.”
Thanks
to particularly high ceilings and an open floor plan, the acoustics at my
brother’s house are fantastic. As
my voice raised and my eyes drooped along with Boden’s, I imagined that we were
in Carnegie Hall together, or perhaps in the EHS auditorium. At the very least, we were in Tamir’s
backyard with a case of beer and the entire winning team of late-1980’s Madrigals.
“Aunt
Julie to the rescue!” Ursula said as I coaxed Boden through the witching hour of
6-7 pm. What she was probably
really thinking was, She’s a little off
key. What day is she going home,
again? And, Boden, calming
down finally, was probably thinking, I
can feel Jean Valjean’s pain like I feel the wetness in my diaper.
I
cried when I left, I won’t lie.
On
the security line at the airport, I noticed a group of teenage
girls….singing. I detected a high school
choir in my midst. Sure enough, Vocal
Color, one of the top 5 all-female, a capella groups in the nation, was on my
flight, headed to New York City for a competition. When we landed safely on the other side of the country, they
broke into song.
And
I sang along. Because I was
grateful to have been welcome in my brother’s and sister-in-law’s home during
such a special time in their lives.
And because I hoped Boden’s brain would keep an imprint of me on it, as
this crazy singing woman who loves him so much. And because, whether I’m happy to be an aunt or excited to
be returning home to my own children, I am always filled with glee.
Which is why I tried a 3-day juice cleanse at Andy’s Pure Food.
