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A welcome visitor in the cottage tonight
even if he didn't talk much
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One of the most
engaging videos I’ve seen lately: Prince William bringing his children to the
hospital to meet their baby brother. Love it that he drives himself and the
children around London—no driver, no nanny, just daddy. Princess Charlotte was
charming, waving at the crowd, while Prince George was a little more solemn.
And not long after, William and Kate appeared carrying the as-yet unnamed baby.
She looked smashing, considering she gave birth just hours before. And to send
mother and baby home so soon—one supposes she has lots of help at home. Still,
Kate strikes me as a hands-on mother, one who wants to do those middle of the
night feedings herself. I wish them much joy with this new baby.
I am a big fan of
the royal family. Barring that episode of Charles and Diana, for which we will
not cast blame, they conduct themselves with grace, dignity, and a concern for
others. Lord knows w e need such examples in our lives these days.
And sad but not
surprising news that George H. W Bush is back in the hospital. I suspect he
held on to get through Barbara’s funeral, but all the starch has left him with
her death. I fear we’ll have a state funeral before long. Prayers for your
peace, sir, from this lifelong Democrat.
Yesterday I went
to a lovely dinner party and stayed so late I myself had no starch for blogging
when I got home. The Burtons and I joined neighbors Dennis and Margaret Johnson
to honor Sue and Teddy and their upcoming wedding. We dined at the Johnsons’
house. They are consummate hosts, and everything was lovely. The meal was a
collaboration, and my compliments to Margaret and Jordan who, together,
recreated one of my favorite recipes: a leg of lamb set on a cake rack over a
vegetable gratin so that the lamb juices drip down into the vegetables. It’s a
bit labor intensive, as you baste the lamb every twenty minutes. I made smoked
salmon tartare for an appetizer, and Jordan made tossed salad, while Margaret
did asparagus. A lovely meal.
The best part
about it was the dinner-table conversation We talked about ideas and concepts
and such, not just who did what. I relish good conversation and regret that I
get it too infrequently. We all seemed wrapped up in “So what did you do this
weekend,” and not the stuff that makes the world go around—or that you fear
will stop it. Two of us at dinner last night are adoptive parents, and that was
a big topic, with Jordan coming in for many questions. When asked when she knew
she was adopted, she said, “I always knew.” I pointed out that all her siblings
knew where babies came from—the adoption agency—because they were veterans of
trips to bring home another baby. Lovely evening with people I’m really fond
of.
Yesterday also
marked the beginnings of my adventures with adoption and children. It was,
gulp, Colin David’s 49th birthday. Of course, I didn’t know it at
the time—he was eight days old before I met him. Neither did I know or
understand how much adoption and children would change the course of my life.
But, for me, it was a monumental turning point. I never thought much about
children until I had them, and then they became the focus of my life. I always
say I’m a mother first and then an author and publisher.
I worried a lot
about Colin, because he bore the brunt of all I didn’t know about raising
babies. But he survived nicely to become a settled, happy adult, a dedicated
family man, a religious man, and a professional—CPA. He is often the rock upon
which I rely. He seems to have overcome my blundering into parenthood with
grace, and I could not love him more nor be prouder of him.
Stories of that
day 50 years ago abound, but they will have to wait for that memoir I’m
threatening to write about motherhood, adoption, and being a single parent.
Now I’m going to
prowl through not one but two cooking magazines that arrived today. Such
bounty.
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