Becoming a grandmother

Our first grandchild, a boy, arrived just after midnight, EST, today, two weeks earlier than expected. I wanted to be there in person to welcome him into the world and to be there for my daughter-in-law and son. But such as it is, we get to meet this new member of the family, on our screens, so close yet so far away.

I look at the photo of my hours-old grandson nestled safely on the bosom of his tired but smiling mother and I see life and the future amidst all the deaths and uncertainty in this time of pandemic.

I am now a grandmother. I think I know what it means but this new role is just starting to sink in. I imagine myself huddling together with my grandchildren reading Goodnight Moon, Where the Wild Things Are, A Very Hungry Caterpillar, and other favorite books that we've read over and over to our three boys when they were small. I have saved some of these books, waiting for the day when we can go silly again with words and pictures on pages.

 

Or maybe write and illustrate a children's book myself. I've always loved doodling and drawing and even dreamt of becoming an artist. These dreams die early on then reconsidered at a later stage in life when doing art feels less conflicting with having food on the table and a roof over one's head. 

I want to tell my grandson of false either-ors. Life is art. Live your dream in the ups and downs of time. Weave your dream into the nitty-gritty of everyday life. 

At 56 and becoming a new grandma, I want to tell that myself.

Marking the passing of time

Today, we come out of three days of full curfew in Jordan. The temperature has dropped by almost half, from the high 30s almost all of last week to low 20s, starting yesterday, along with a good amount of rain that washed the dust off the leaves of a rosebush, a citrus tree, and a grapevine just outside our bedroom window.

Today is also May 25, the 74th anniversary of Jordan's independence. No celebrations as usual (as in this video of an official ceremony in 2019) but citizens are encouraged to put out the Jordanian flag. We foreigners can only be thankful for being welcomed to wait out the pandemic here. 

When and how will the pandemic ends still hangs in the air but that we try to have a sense of control with other end and start dates that make us ask what's open and what's closed. Like the last day of Ramadan and the first day of Eid al Fitr, which were a day later than expected since the moon was not sighted as expected on Friday. So, today is the 2nd day of Eid. Are stores open? Can we now buy beer or wine somewhere?

In the U.S., May 25, the last Monday of May of this year, is Memorial Day, a day supposed to honor the men and women who died while serving in the U.S. military. Perhaps, there will be a memorial day to remember the people, like health workers, who have worked and died on the frontlines of the fight against the spread of covid-19.

I am not on any frontline of any fight but rather watching, learning, waiting, mostly in front of (or behind) my computer screen, in a foreign country. Over the weekend, I've read the NYT Magazine and chuckled at stories of how some people are dealing with the blurring of days staying at home. Without the familiar, regular routines that structured our days previously, we are all trying not to fall in on ourselves, like countries turning inward and struggling to answer what opening up again to the outside world would mean.

Impotence and action

I was a bit crabby today at my husband. I told him I don't want to see another link to an article (like this one) telling me how the health system in Yemen couldn't cope with the rising numbers of Covid-19 cases. We've heard that for months now, even before the first confirmed case was reported back on April 10, weeks after almost all countries have already gone into closures, lockdowns, quarantines, curfews and so on. And we're now in mid-May...

I guess it is this feeling of impotence in the face of this kind of humanitarian crisis in a country like that. We're lucky to be here in The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan where the leadership seemed to have taken the bull by its horns early on and is diligently monitoring and responding to the situation as it evolves.

What can an individual do beyond wearing masks and gloves and social distancing? I retreat back in front of my computer where I have been losing myself in online courses, earning badges and certificates, and cranking up loads of job applications. I need to be where there is some action or at least read some stories of action.

And so I was drawn to this on-demand, online PMXPO 2020 sessions, particularly the keynote address by a woman, Cara Brookins, who, along with her four minor children, built her own house based on knowledge gained from watching YouTube videos. At first, I thought, c'mon. But this is via the reputable PMI and, I must admit, these kinds of individual stories of grit appeal to me, especially in these times when the role of the state looms large in solving issues.

So, I register and access Cara's keynote address. She started off with her past experience with domestic abuse and violence and I go, Oh man, please no sob story, I've had enough of Yemen's sob story! But it's Friday, full curfew in Jordan, temp has gone up into the mid-30s and my plants want a break from me. So, I continue listening. I got glued to Cara's story. It wasn't so much about the house. It was about building a family, a team, building character, using what is already inside of us, to act big, to bring something into fruition out of scratch. 

I don't want to sound fluffy but I have to say the story is beyond inspiring. It makes me think of possibilities beyond the formal frameworks, matrices, phases and stages, cycles, and so on that we use to think about project or program management. 

The speaker passes on the hammer to us and ask us what we can do with it in our particular projects. Think big. Do the hard thing. What's the worst that could happen? Do over. Show up. Climb your mountain.