When the baby was just a couple weeks old, my daughter-in-law sent a photo of him to the family chat.

“Can I come snuggle him tomorrow?” I texted back, which was a foolish thing to ask, because then my younger daughter chimed in, “Me, too!” and I was like, Well, shoot.

When I arrived the next afternoon for my scheduled Baby Time, my older daughter was holding him, my younger daughter had just left, and my younger son was waiting for his few minutes of glory. 

I had to wait a whole freaking 45 minutes to get my hands on that magical little creature. 

I’m never making that mistake again.

***

You’ve heard the poem about babies not keeping, I’m sure.

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

When my kids were little, I thought that poem was whack. I cuddled them lots, but even as I marveled at their silky skin and fuzz-capped heads, I always longed to do something else. 

Anything else. 

Children bored me. Their persistent neediness weighed on me. I wanted to do my things on my time in my way. I adored them, but I didn’t (couldn’t?) relax into just being with them. 

Newsflash: that poem isn’t for mothers (even if it is titled “Poem for a Fifth Child”) — 

It’s for grandmothers. 

***

In the last couple weeks, I have been upgraded to babysitting in my home.

When they call to see if I’m available, my answer is almost always, Yes, please! 

Starting last week, they began leaving baby paraphernalia so they wouldn’t have to haul it over each time:an extra jar of frozen breastmilk, onesies, emergency disposables, a changing mat, a bottle. Now the baby has his very own dedicated bathroom shelf, which makes me ridiculously happy. Sometimes I even open the cupboard door just to gaze at the little things.

There is a baby in my life.

***

People always say the best part of being a grandparent is that you get to give them back to the parents, but I don’t agree. 

To me, the best part is the way the baby settles me. 

Holding him snuggled up against my cheek, inhaling his milk breath, brushing his warm skin with my lips every 20 seconds (I’m not even exaggerating, I’m a baby-kissing machine), my body relaxes. My nervous system settles. My anxiety and stress evaporate. 

Holding him is better than therapy. Better than a nap. Better than a glass of wine.

It’s bliss.

***

When the baby comes over, everything else goes out the window. EVERYTHING. I hold him and sniff him and talk to him for hours.

My husband gets a kick out of my new crush. When he gets home from work, he’ll often ask, “Did you get to see your baby today?” He leans into the word “your” and his eyes twinkle.

I take the question very seriously, though, and if the answer is yes, he gets the full rundown: 

How the baby peed five times and we had a long conversation on the sofa, and then I sat on the patio and let the dog sniff his toes, and then I gave him a bottle and he looked exactly like a space alien staring up at me, and how I’m pretty sure I discovered his favorite sleeping position because I can get him to fall asleep in five minutes flat — and so on. 

I’m not sad when he leaves, but there’s always a twinge of panic. How long will it be until I see him again? 

***

I think my mom is a little taken aback at how completely I’ve taken to my new role, how utterly absorbed I am (heck, I’m kinda floored) and then it recently dawned on me that my mother never got to experience what I have: geographical proximity to a first grandbaby. 

That physical closeness isn’t something I take for granted, not for even a second. There are no guarantees I’ll ever be in this situation again.

So yeah, those cobwebs can wait.

I’m a-gonna soak up all the baby lovin’ I can get.

This same time, years previous: my mother’s gift, the quotidian (4.8.24), how I trick myself into writing, the coronavirus diaries: week 57, whole wheat sourdough bread, making space, missing Alice, beginner’s bread, when popcorn won’t pop, the greening.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

When in doubt (about anything), cook kale.

Huckleberry oat crumble.

How do you like your steak?

Bakery boy.

Two peas.

Suffering paperwork.

Easter day runaway hams.

Painted piggies.

New renovation project, whoop-whoop!

Problematic stairs? Great grandson to the rescue!

Five generations.

Patio weather is here.

This same time, years previous: how to make clabber, dairy developments, the different kinds of meals, the quotidian (4.6.20), kickboxing, caribbean milk cake, a trick for cooking pasta, scatteredness, the quotidian (4.6.15), sun days, working lunches.

Now, about that tomato onion gravy.

my next-to-last quart of tomatoes

This is a simple sauce that, to my understanding, is often served with greens and some version of a cooked meal. In Mozambique, it’s xima (recipe below!), and in South Africa it’s pap, and then there are lots of other African variations on the theme, like sadza and ugali, etc.

Eucefe making last week’s xima.

But pairing tomato gravy with xima (SHE-mah) is only the starting point.

With tomato gravy in the fridge, you have the base for any number of fast, nourishing, flavorful meals.

• Instead of with xima, serve it over pasta or rice.
• Fry up a pound of ground beef with the onions for a meaty stew.
• Ladle it into a bowl and top with a boiled egg and a scoop of cottage cheese.
• Add cilantro, avocado, a scoop of beans, sour cream, and hominy.
• Eat it with buttered toast, or alongside grilled cheese, like a tomato chutney of sorts.
• Serve it next to grilled steak and mashed potatoes
• Pile high with greens — any kind! lots of them!
• Add a quart of broth, cubes of potato, and some cabbage or green beans — voila, soup! 

Making the gravy, it feels like you’re gonna be disappointed. Just tomatoes and onions? No garlic? No special seasonings? No cream or meat or basil?

Persevere, my friends. Let it simmer for a bit, and then simmer it a little more. After 15 minutes, it transforms into something much greater than the sum of its parts — intensely flavorful, stew-like, almost jammy.

with cottage cheese and greens

I am an enormous fan of reheating a bowlful of gravy and then topping it with whatever I have in the fridge for a mood-boosting, vitamin-packed power lunch to beat all power lunches.

with cottage cheese and a fried egg

No scurvy for me!

Tomato Onion Gravy
Adapted from this post on Food.com.

1 large onion, halved and quartered length-wise and then sliced thinly
fat (olive oil, lard, bacon grease, or butter)
4 cups chopped canned tomatoes
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes teaspoon
1 teaspoon sugar, optional
salt and black pepper to taste

Saute the onion in a little fat until soft and tender, and only kissed with brown. Add the tomatoes, red pepper, and seasonings. Simmer over low heat for 15-20 minutes, uncovered, stirring occasionally.

***

Last fall, I wrote a story about Eucefe making xima for us. The voluteer agency that he works with published that story here, along with the recipe — or the recipe as I understood it back then.

Now that his English has improved, so has my understanding of how to make xima.

I made it the other night for supper (along with grilled steak, greens, and tomato onion gravy, of course).

He said I did it correctly — whoop! — and then he ate the leftovers for breakfast.

Eucefe’s Xima

2 cups water
1 cup (approximately) finely-ground white corn meal, like Iwisa

Put 2 cups of water in a saucepan. Turn on the heat. Begin sprinkling in some meal, a little at a time, stirring steadily. When the mixture starts to feel thick, stop adding meal.

Now, focus on stirring. Stir steadily and hard until the mixture is hot-hot, and it’s thick like cookie dough or mashed potatoes. Turn off the heat.

Spoon the xima into a serving bowl, dipping the spoon in a bowl of cold water between scoops.

To eat, scoop a bit of xima into one hand and knead it into a ball. Make an indentation and use it to scoop up the other food on your plate. (Or just eat it with a fork, like thick mashed potatoes.)

This amount feeds 2-4 adults.

This same time, years previous: Emily’s prize-winning tres leche cake, milkslinger, the quotidian (4.3.23), ground beef chili with chocolate and peanut butter, the coronavirus diaries: week four.