Beautiful boy

I don’t have children. At least none that I know of. It’s honestly my greatest regret in life. But, heck, maybe I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. I’m still trying to figure out the difference between size 24 months and 2T. They should be the same, right? Wrong.

Apparently, size 24 months includes features specially designed for babies. Baby bottoms (as in pants) in a 24-month size feature a curved design to fit diapers. Relaxed fit, if you will. The 2T size won’t have extra room, appearing slimmer and feeling snugger than size 24 months.

Sort of like “Baby Spanx.”

So for me, not having kids was perhaps a blessing in disguise.

Which brings us to our word of the month: Blessing. With a capital “B,” as in … SHE HAD A BOY! Yippee! A boy.

Did I mention it’s a boy?

As thrilled great-aunties yet again, Rebecca and I are over-the-moon happy. It’s my side of the family this time.

What can I say about this little being that I have not yet met but already love with all my heart?

He’s perfect. He has his father’s hair (read: not very much). He has his mother’s smile. And those tiny dark eyes. We haven’t seen them fully opened just yet.

He’s one sleepy baby boy, and man, has it been a long and winding road to get here. For his parents. Grandparents. Family. Friends. For him.

Truly a miracle baby. Not sure I’ve ever prayed so much.

Born at 1:48 p.m. on the 17th day of May, he is “Friday’s child, who is loving and giving.”

As a Taurus, his astrological sign’s characteristics say he will be patient, hard working and loyal. He also may be stubborn and set in his ways, but he will be a great listener and very dependable.

And he will love eating gnocchi and grape leaves together any time day or night. ( I made that up, but I’m hoping it’s true.)

His first few days on this earth will be in the same hospital on Detroit’s east side where I was born some 64 years ago. It was much smaller then with one building. I don’t think they allowed dads in the rooms. Nor would mine, who was 38, have wanted to be in there.

Along with birthing her third child, my mother was pushing 40, and they were raising two teen-agers. Good times.

Mom always reminded me how lucky I was. I never forgot that.

Before this little guy was born, I started a text thread in March with his soon-to-be parents about a fun way of teaching kids their ABCs: using rock band names for each alphabet letter. Such as, “A is for Aerosmith and … keep it going.”

So we did. Sometimes days would go by. Or weeks. A month. But we kept at it whenever time permitted.

This is significant because both parents are music lovers, and my nephew also is a gifted guitarist who started a band years ago, wrote original songs and even cut a professional CD. Then life happened. College, work, more school, running a business. But he’ll never stop playing, of that I’m sure.

Keep it going. “B” is for Beatles. “C” is for Charlie Parker. (Because they gotta learn jazz, too.) “D” is for Devo. (New Wave in the crib!)

“E” is for Ella Fitzgerald. (Or Eddie, as in Van Halen.) Just please don’t name him Wolfgang, OK? (I really did say “him.”)

Anyway, I think we got as far as “N” for Nirvana.

Last Saturday, we texted about how it was finally the home stretch and that his wife was tough and would finish strong. Then on due-date Friday, I wished them luck, and he sent me the screen snap of a “Prayer for a Safe Delivery.”

It worked. Mama and baby did just fine.

As you can imagine — or may know from personal experience — it takes a lot of energy to carry a baby. Actually, much more than scientists previously believed. No shocker there.

In a May 16 study published in the journal Science, Australian researchers estimated that a human pregnancy demands almost 50,000 dietary calories over the course of nine months. With only about 4 percent of total energy costs of pregnancy stored in a baby’s tissues, the other 96 percent is extra fuel required by a woman’s own body.

According to researchers (who sound like a delightful bunch), that’s the equivalent of about 50 pints of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream — and significantly more than expected. I don’t understand the math, but that’s a whole lot of Chunky Monkey, people.

Congratulations to the new parents, Jeff and Natalie.

Welcome to the world, Thomas Jeffrey Lupo. All 6 pounds, 7 ounces and 19 inches of you!

Turns out, his first name honors his mother’s beloved late cousin. The middle name is for his father — my nephew, who I held in 1975 when he was a newborn.

A wonderful tribute to bestow on such a beautiful boy.

By the way, we also heard it’s OK to call him Tommy, a nickname that just happens to be from a 1969 rock opera by The Who. (That there’s the “W” for your alphabet song, mister.)

No doubt this baby’s first month will be filled with lots of burping, bathing and bonding. And of course, there’s tummy time, which may possibly become known as “Tommy Tutone’s Tummy Time.”

Or not. I’ll definitely confirm with the parents before proceeding.