Friday, April 10, 2009

I have an addiction

It's true. I do. I am admitting it to the world but I am not looking for help. I am not ready to give up my addiction. I may never be. I'll be fine. It may empty my bank account. It may take all my time. But I don't care. I can't live without my addiction. I need it - erm - them.

I am addicted.

To babies.

(Don't tell my husband)

Okay so first I should say that the babies don't even have to be mine. Although Darling Daughter intensified the addiction, I admit I was on the road to baby-loving long ago.

I come from a big family. Okay I come from an enormous family. My grandmother had 14 kids. They went forth and multiplied and I have over 60 first cousins. They went forth and multiplied and I admit I have lost track of how many first cousins once removed I have. Two children in my family are rare. One child is even more rare. No children is, well, unheard of.

This means from a young age I was exposed to babies, lots and lots of babies. And I loved them. Cute babies, cuddly babies, chubby babies, skinny babies, happy babies, cranky babies, quiet babies, LOUD babies, poopy babies and just bathed babies. I liked them all.

Consequently I did a lot of baby sitting. A lot of babysitting. I really enjoyed it. I had fun. I wasn't grossed out by diaper changes or spit up. I didn't get bored. I didn't invite my friends over. I didn't get annoyed with crying babies. I became an expert at teething. I loved those babies and those babies loved me.

To be fair, I really like little kids as well. They slay me. Their insights are wonderful. Their utter brilliance dazzles me. Their energy sustains me. They definitely hold a large portion of my heart. But babies, babies...

I had the wonderful opportunity to learn some baby massage yesterday. My friend's Mom just took a course and to complete her certification she needs to teach three moms how to massage their babies. I was lucky enough to be included and so away I went. As soon as I walked into her place I knew I was in trouble. Three babies. My baby and two of my girlfriend's babies. I do believe my hands started to shake. I started to sweat. I was in trouble and I loved it.

The problem with my addiction is that it lives up to my expectations every time. My Darling Daughter is amazing on a daily basis. I can't get enough of her. My girlfriend's babies were just amazing as well. One of them is just a few weeks older than my daughter and she is a total spitfire. Cute, vocal and wiggly. She is seconds from crawling. She smiles at the drop of a hat. She eats whole cookies in a single bound. She is amazing. The other baby is three months younger than my daughter. He is so cute. He is a big boy. A BIG boy. He is only two pounds less than my daughter and she is over the 100 percentile for her age and height. He had the biggest blue eyes and the roundest little tummy and the chubbiest little legs. And his cry, his cry, oh his cry. It is so tiny, so teeny, like a newborn. Like a newborn kitten. Yet he is so big you would expect a yell but no, out comes this sweet little coo. I melted on the spot.

I had such a great time. When I left I was so happy. Writing this I can feel little tears of happiness at the back of my eyes. I love babies.

I am Pop Wahm Buzz and I love babies.

Don't ask me to stop.

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