“I hate babies.” As soon as I said the words, I felt like my Pastor might kick me right out of our church. But before I realized what I was saying, I had said them. Because it’s kind of how I sort of feel {can you feel me squirming in my seat right now?} and so I forget that most people don’t feel that way. In talking about the newest Brehm addition, Adam and I are currently living in a Fantasy Land where we are pretending that this baby will not be Evil Tuesday Baby {ETB}. This baby, will be Saturday Baby {SB}.
ETB came about when B was a baby. Tuesday, for some reason, seemed to be his worst day. I’m not sure if I suck at the whole nurturing business or just have no patience but on Tuesdays, that baby…the one who is a 4 year old I now adore…he would scream for hours upon hours upon hours as compared to the other days of the week where it was just hours upon hours. I swear I wore a track in our living room carpet walking him around. And I smelled of regurgitated breast milk. And I ate a whole lot of Oreos. And I was not a nice person. It was a dark period of time where the Gilmore Girls were my life raft. And then, SB would come around and make us think that maybe, just maybe, babies had redeeming qualities. And then the cycle would start all over. But I thought I would have a handle on it with the second. But alas, Jonah broke our spirit once again. He was awesomesauce for almost 3 and a half weeks and then, until he was about 18 months, the honeymoon period was left in the dust by a form of ETB.
That’s right, folksies. I am saying that as babies, I did not enjoy our boys. I wanted to but it just wasn’t so. And I’m sure now I’m Evil Blogging Mommy {EBM}.
So where was I… oh yes… “I hate babies”. pause. “Oh…” replied our Pastor. And he’s such a nice guy that I am sure he just paused because he doesn’t have to be speaking in every silent moment {like this girl} but I immediately interjected, “I mean hate is strong, I of course, love my children. There’s not been a moment I haven’t loved them. But I don’t like babies. At least our babies. Other people’s babies seem fine. But our brand of baby, they scream. And cry. And spit up all the time. And so for me, the infant stage is a means to an end. The way to get the little humans that we like, not just love”. All the while, my audience just nodded his head and probably thought it was a good thing I was in church.
Oy. I need to learn to keep my mouth zipped shut. But this diarrhea of the mouth situation has been part of every ounce of me since I could talk so I have a feeling the cure is not soon in sight. When you tell people you hate babies, they pretty much think you also don’t like cute puppy pictures or those cute little miniature horses {and who doesn’t love miniature horses? no one.}. And furthermore, when you are a woman on your fourth pregnancy and are already a mother to two children who possess emotions, I think that you aren’t supposed to say you hate any part of that or of them. It’s sort of like saying you don’t think your children were cute infants…people don’t like that either. And so hate may be a little bit of a gross exaggeration. I don’t think that I have ever really hated anything. Even having headgear and glasses at one time. Or failing music theory. Or those little crunchy wasabi peas.
I will fully admit that We likely had some very precious moments with the boys prior to their 6 month mark … I mean, after all, they were asleep at times and there are pictures of them not screaming {I just don’t know that I was lucid for those} …but when I say I hate babies, I more mean, I prefer my children a little bit older. And a little bit less screamy. And angry. And spitting pea soup. and over a year. Gosh darn it.
Well, I want to love and like this infant that currently swims in my belly. And I’m very optimistic about this. Truly {ahem.}. Or at least I am trying for mind over matter. Because everyone keeps telling me the third babe is the even keel-go with the flow-nothing rattles it babe. In fact, I held the sweetest, snuggliest little third-born lovie recently and I was so excited and at peace. So excited for our baby. And so even if it is Evil Monday through Sunday Baby, we will have to learn to deal and push on through {and purchse B & J some ear plugs}. I already have a three step plan in place if Evil Tuesday Babe is our fate, including: take the babe to the chiropractor immediately {every mom whose had a bothered babe swears by this}, break away from the boob for a bit and try specialized formula {because what am I trying to prove, seriously} and get good mommy drugs {hey, a girl’s gotta have a plan}. But perhaps, just perhaps, no plan will be needed. This will be our Saturday Baby and all will be bliss. Perhaps. A girl can dream, right?
What is your favorite stage and age with kiddos? Infant, Toddler, or beyond? Do babies make you blissful or batty?
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