A Rosy Outlook

"Hello, how are you this morning?" I said into my phone, calling my brother who was in the hotel next door to mine.
"Just fine," he answered.
"Better than when you got in last evening?"
"I guess so. May I ask who is calling?"
"This is your sister. Do you have to ask which one?"
"I only have one sister."
Pause.
"Is this John C, my brother?"
"No, this is William."
"You're lying."
"No, I really am William."
"Oh. Well sorry. Wrong number."
That is how my day three in Vegas began.

But it was ok. I then called my real brother. He was going to be driving me and his lovely wife, Jenny and sister, Holly to visit the Hoover dam. While Vegas held little allure for me, I was very excited to visit the Hoover dam.

I was wearing my new John Lennon sunglasses I had gotten for $10 on the Strip. I put them on as we arrived at Hoover dam. They had pink lenses, and cast a rosy hue on the world.

John is an exceptional photographer, and would be photographing my niece's wedding which will be tonight. He had a huge expensive camera with a lens as long as Pinocchio's nose. We hopped out of the car.
John looked at me, with my Lennon glasses and a dangly sparkly thing in my hair, another Vegas trinket.
"All you need is a peasant skirt and you will look just like a hippie from the 60s," he said.

We walked across the top of the Hoover dam. It is 700 feet high, and looking over the edge made me woozy. Still I mustered all the courage I had and leaned over the edge to take a picture.
"Let's do a self portrait of all of us," I suggested.
"Good, I have a tripod," said photographer John. He set up his tripod and screwed the camera onto it, the fancy huge lens pointing at us. We posed by that vertigo inducing edge. John was busy setting controls on his big fancy camera.
"Com'on," I said, "We can't pose here forever. I'm getting dizzy."
"Can't find my self-timer control..." he said. He continued fidgeting with his big expensive camera.
I pulled out a tiny camera from my pocket.
I set the self timer. "We'll use mine, I have a self timer."
I plopped the tiny camera on the edge of the wall pointing at us and ten seconds later we said, "Cheese!" and the picture was a done deal.
I adjusted my rose colored glasses, which had a tendency to rise too high on my nose, while John packed away the little tripod and slung his big fancy camera over his neck again.

We had a dam fine time, and that was just one of the many dam jokes we had to endure before heading back. By the time we returned to our Vegas hotel, the rest of the wedding group had arrived. They were all heading out to a Vegas show, but I had offered to stay back and watch my new grand nephew so that the new mom could have a night out with her husband. Having not cared for a baby in 14 years, I was rusty, but figured it was like riding a bicycle; you never forget. Fortunately, Holly, who has a slew of children and was only two years out of the new baby years, didn't want to go to the show, so stayed with me. John and Jenny, who were on their third round of Happy Hour, offered to hang out with us a while too. With all that mother power and experience before her, Renee, the new mom, agreed that her baby might survive for the 90 minute show.

Soon after she walked out the door, the baby began to fuss.
"How much time do we have left?" I asked Holly, while jiggling the baby.
"89 minutes."
"Could he be hungry?"
"He ate 5 minutes ago."
I jiggled some more, and then there was an explosion from his nether region.
"Want me to change him?" asked Holly.
"No...I think I will remember how..."
And it was just like riding a bicycle, except the view was a little less appetizing. I finished cleaning and diapering him, and we headed back to the living room. He was happier...for a little while.
I jiggled and showed him the lights, which his mom says he likes.
"How much longer?" I asked Holly.
"86 minutes."
I think he was testing us, because for the next half hour, we traded him off and on and he was not outright unhappy, but he was fussy.
"How much time left now?" I asked.
"The show is just starting," she said, "Now our 90 minutes actually begins. And then they have to walk back."
John and Jenny left for round 4 of Happy Hour. I jiggled the baby.
"I think he's hungry," I said.
Holly heated his formula while I jiggled. He was rooting into my arm and beginning to be seriously urgent in his squawking. In the nick of time the bottle arrived, and I plugged it into his mouth. He sucked it down furiously.
"I guess he was hungry," said Holly.
After burping and completing the bottle, little Gregory fell fast asleep.
Whew. We were going to return him intact, I thought, with increasing confidence.
Then he woke up.
"How much time left?"
"If they get out on time, another hour."
"I don't remember time moving so slowly," I said, as Holly jiggled the now happy, but squirmy baby. We figured out that he was sick of us and wanted to be on his back in the bassinet squirming. He kicked his little arms and legs delightedly.

John and Jenny returned, and we three grand-aunts all gathered around the bassinet, jiggling the overhanging toys, cooing, and smiling. Gregory was happy.
"This is easy, all it takes is three mothers. How does just one do it?" I asked.

My sister Amy, gathered with the group at the show, called to tell us the show was over, and they wanted to know if the baby had survived. We assured her that the baby was fine. They were on their way back, she promised, and would arrive to the hotel in half an hour. John and Jenny and Holly, all yawning, waved goodbye to me and the happy baby, and left.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind them, I smiled at Gregory, "Just you and me now."
"Ma?" asked Gregory.
His face scowled, and he began murmurings of revolt again.
Soon the fidgeting became more pronounced, the face less happy with his world. I picked him up again, and now it was clear, life was no longer so rosy. All by myself, I heated the formula, grabbed the spit rag, covered him with a soft blanket in my arms while he wailed.
Then I collapsed on the couch and as he sucked on the bottle like there was no tomorrow, he calmed and blissfully closed his eyes. It is for moments like this that we procreate, I thought.

Just as I had finished burping, changing his diaper, and putting on his jammies, his Daddy and Grandma arrived back. They had rushed home before the others, NOT because they were worried about Vicky alone with the baby. My mission complete, I returned to my room and sank into bed.

Sometimes the world is rose colored even without John Lennon glasses.

Psalm 34:12-15
Whoever of you loves life
and desires to see many good days, keep your tongue from evil
and your lips from telling lies. Turn from evil and do good;
seek peace and pursue it. The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and his ears are attentive to their cry; (Psalm 34:12-15 NIV)



-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org