It's gravy, not sauce, in my house

Today, as I was making gravy, I kept hearing my Nana's voice telling me the steps. My mother had written up her process yesterday, and I was loosely following that. But as I put pushed the garlic (finely chopped, not whole so that it can be removed -- my family prefers the garlic taste without the actual garlic) from the cutting board into the pot, my Nana said, "Just let it brown a little." When I rushed to open the cans of puree and sauce, she said, "Go slow and keep stirring." We laughed together, in my mind, as the gravy bubbled up from inside the pot and splattered all over the stove and backsplash, the counter, and a little on my white tank top. "It always gets on the white shirt!" she yelled.

I cleaned up the counter and washed the dishes, without the lower back pain I usually have while standing at the sink. I thought about my grandmother, and how happy she would've been to see me nine months pregnant, nice and round in front from eating constantly (of course!), and making a big pot of gravy.

It seems that everyone is rushing this little one into the world. I'm just as excited as everyone else -- well, more -- to meet the little person I've been growing, and learn all about him or her. But I'm enjoying these last few weeks (or days or hours) of holding this person inside, where he or she is just mine. I have no doubt that when this baby is ready to come out, the red carpet will come with it. (The baby will be a Leo, after all!) And there will be plenty of time for all of us to fall in love with him or her for the person that he or she is. But for now, I'm going to hang on to the wonderful gift of this experience that the baby has given me, and only me.

And so, as excited as my Nana would be for the arrival of her first great-grandchild, I think she would have the same advice for me now: "Go slow, and keep stirring."