Baby Baby

I am up here in Vermont surrounded by mountains and cows. I do so love cows. I am visiting my best lifelong friend and meeting a new friend, her 2-month-old daughter. So far the three of us are getting along perfectly. I am in love with this new baby. She is beautiful, not to mention that she hardly ever fusses, has a soft cry and her poops don’t smell that bad. I thought for the first few days that this was a miraculous magic baby until I realized something. The babies crying and fussing drives her mother to the brink of insanity. The sound of this angelic cherub’s crying stabs at my friend’s brain like a jackhammer. Seriously? Is my friend just overly sensitive? Right? Wrong. I have decided that babies and mothers are simply perfectly matched partners. A mother’s breast milk is naturally engineered to nourish her baby’s individual needs in the same way the babies cry is genetically produced to shatter the mother’s eardrums and scramble her brain. The interesting fact about the crying effect is that the mother doesn’t even have to be biologically related to the child. Ah crying and stress reaching across all racial and economic boundaries. Thank goodness I am just the auntie so I could easily lend a helping hand. Hey I also think that I figured out why Grand mother's are so happy...


I have spent the last almost week here helping out in any way that I can. Oh my, is it ever better to be the auntie than a mommy. I am so enjoying this baby. I feed her, change her, take her on walks, we bebop around town. No stress, no anxiety, no disgraceful mishaps or any public displays of humiliation. Just fun. If I was this serine with my own children I could have saved them many hours of adult therapy. Seriously, my kids are doing fine there is a good chance that they will be functional members of society.

My kids are spending the longest time apart ever. They are at home with their father. He is heroically taking them both on for almost a week. He calls every day and so day they all still alive. They are all better than well. I on the other hand miss them terribly. Alice started riding her bike. Her first big girl bike without me. Sniff sniff. I love them veraciously and I am yearning for them like a lioness yearns for red meat. I hate that they can survive without me. They are my babies. My breasts fed them. Their cries made my heart race and wake from a sound sleep while my husband snored next to me. Okay so he doesn’t snore, but you get the picture. They are as much mine as my hand or my heart and I miss them. When I go home tomorrow I am hugging them until they beg me to stop. I have loved this time with this sweet baby, she is wonderful, but she is not my perfect match. When she cries I just hear noise. I long for my babies’ cries. The cries that make my stress hormones pump like water over Niagara Falls. My own darlings, the children that are perfect just for me.