Flying dog hair

When Mandy was about to be born nearly 30 years ago, my mother was hovering anxiously, offering all kinds of help to get ready for the baby. I was pretty calm, especially in contrast to her nervous energy, and I declined her offer to give my house a good cleaning. I tried to assure her that we were ready for the birth, but her exasperation came out as she blurted, "You can't bring a new baby home to a house with all that flying dog hair!"

Mom's endearing comment has come back to me many times over the years and especially as I try to keep from uttering a similar declaration.

I understand now better than ever what was at the heart of her warning. It had nothing to do with dog hair and everything to do with the difference in our experiences. She spoke from the perspective of having raised five children and knowing all the challenges and rewards I faced. My view was naively confident, knowing nothing about parenthood but believing I was prepared for whatever it entailed.

I am trying not to hover too much in these last few days before my daughter delivers her son, nor is there any need. Mandy and Andy have done a wonderful job preparing their house, and their hearts, to welcome a baby.

But if I slip up and make an anxious-grandma proclamation of my own, I think they will understand. In our family, "flying dog hair" has become legend as just another way to say, "I love you."