A Hack

 Me, I mean.

 I am scared to death of my 6-month-old granddaughter, Olivia, or Liv, as we call her. Not that she menaces the world, but the fact that I’m regularly called upon to babysit her has me wondering if I’m good at anything. It’s amazing how a child so small can make me feel so utterly helpless, if not useless.

 I can make her laugh and I can feed her a bottle. I sit with her as she tries to eat a “crinkly book” or knocks down blocks, and I’m very good at holding her while she burrows into my shoulder, clinging to my sweatshirt to fall asleep. Diapers are no problem, as at age 72, I’ve come to believe the world is full of crap. And drool? No worries at all. Someday, I’ll lose all my teeth, and I’ll drool with the best of them.

Usually, I share the duty of babysitting with my wife, Kim, who, honestly, is a master at all things children. Patient, loving, kind, and generous are just some of the qualities my wife possesses. I have those same qualities, but not in the quantities Kim possesses. And I get flustered, something that doesn’t happen to Kim. 

Liv has me constantly panicking whether I am good at being a grandparent, or “Papa” as Mason, Liv’s almost three-year-old brother, calls me. I am not the best grandfather, I must confess, but I try to be.

 On Tuesday of this week, I am called upon to babysit Liv for a full day: 8:30 a.m. to about 3:30 or 4:00 p.m. That is a long, long time to ride solo in Liv’s world. Kim won’t be there to help (or take over- something I don’t mind at all). I am by myself. 

I love Liv to pieces. I really mean that. I am good at making her laugh and encouraging her to talk her baby babble (I think Liv makes more sense than I do most of the time.) But I worry about the length of time with her being solo doing it. I worry quite a bit about that. 

I worry whether I will hurt her unintentionally, causing her harm- physically or psychically. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever did that.

Mason, whom I already mentioned, will be three in one month. I don’t really remember him being Liv’s age, though I know he once was. We have pictures to prove it. He and I get along like old pals, buds. He is so funny and talks nonstop. I get him, and I think he gets me. I love him to pieces, too.

 But there is a big, humongous difference between an almost three-year-old and a six-month-old. I can handle Mason fairly easily. I can play with him, and he and I can read books together. He sings to himself (akin to my talking to myself, I think). He is loud and I’m okay with that, because Kim accuses me of being noisy and loud. Perhaps Mason and I are cut from the same cloth. 

Liv is quieter, at least at this point. She studies me with her big blue eyes. Perhaps accuses and judges me with those same eyes. 

But duty calls me on Tuesday. I will willingly serve, though I might wet myself along with her. Okay, that’s being over-dramatic, but you get my point. I’m scared. Not anxious or worried- scared. I will put on my brave face, smile a lot, and do my very best. I’m still new at being a grandparent, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s the best gig in the world. It just scares the hell out of me and makes me think of myself as an inept hack. But I’ll live, and Liv will too. Think of me, kind soul. Please. A prayer or two wouldn’t hurt either. Something to think about ...

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

If you are interested in any of my books, you can find them at www.jrlewisauthor.com My publisher, Black Rose Writing, now has all of my books translated into both German and Spanish, and all are available in Audible, Kindle, and Paperback formats.

I am proud of the fact that I've won approximately 20 awards: Maxy Awards, PenCraft Awards, BestThriller Awards, among others. 

I'm currently working on my eleventh book, The Disappeared, and I hope to have it completed and edited this summer, and then published (on a date/time to be determined).