Isn't That Baby Cute?
There was a beautiful baby girl in the pew in front of us. She was dressed all in pink, and was smiling wide in the arms of her mother, father and grandmother. I was sitting three kids away from Kathy, but I could almost hear what she needed to say about the baby.
"Isn't that baby cute? Don't you want another one?"
Well, I certainly can appreciate a cute baby, but the answer to question number two is a resounding NO!
Another baby? I'm 44 - I'm tired. I've been tired since the mid-80's.
It's funny, but a mother can look at someone elses baby and get all emotional about the potential of the child, how the top of its head smells, and how cool it would be to take care of it, nurse it, and watch it grow.
A father looks at the baby, and then gazes at the poor bastard husband who more than likely got crap on his hand the last time he attempted to change the diaper.
I see a baby and I think of Jake knocking a hot cup of coffee out of my hand and onto his arm on the first morning when Kathy attempted to sleep in. I screamed, the baby cried, and the coffee didn't even strike as much as a glancing blow. Jake was calmed down before I was.
When I think of the smell of a baby - it isn't the top of his head I'm thinking about - it's the stomach churning smell of milk vomit on the back of my hand.
When I see babies, I no longer think of potential - I initially dreamed of having one of my children as the president of the United States - won't happen, I've met all three of them - now I just have a fund for bail money.
About a third of the way through mass the adorable baby started crying - I watched the panic on her father's face as he handed off the child as though she were a football.
The mother did the cradle rock on her left hip, and smiled at her husband. It might have been a cute family moment, but I understood what that smile meant to dad - it was a smile of failure as the wife nodded the acknowledgement that he had botched his attempt at helping out.
The husband smiled back and nodded - it was a nod of - who gives a shit, I ain't holding the baby anymore.
Isn't that cute?
"Isn't that baby cute? Don't you want another one?"
Well, I certainly can appreciate a cute baby, but the answer to question number two is a resounding NO!
Another baby? I'm 44 - I'm tired. I've been tired since the mid-80's.
It's funny, but a mother can look at someone elses baby and get all emotional about the potential of the child, how the top of its head smells, and how cool it would be to take care of it, nurse it, and watch it grow.
A father looks at the baby, and then gazes at the poor bastard husband who more than likely got crap on his hand the last time he attempted to change the diaper.
I see a baby and I think of Jake knocking a hot cup of coffee out of my hand and onto his arm on the first morning when Kathy attempted to sleep in. I screamed, the baby cried, and the coffee didn't even strike as much as a glancing blow. Jake was calmed down before I was.
When I think of the smell of a baby - it isn't the top of his head I'm thinking about - it's the stomach churning smell of milk vomit on the back of my hand.
When I see babies, I no longer think of potential - I initially dreamed of having one of my children as the president of the United States - won't happen, I've met all three of them - now I just have a fund for bail money.
About a third of the way through mass the adorable baby started crying - I watched the panic on her father's face as he handed off the child as though she were a football.
The mother did the cradle rock on her left hip, and smiled at her husband. It might have been a cute family moment, but I understood what that smile meant to dad - it was a smile of failure as the wife nodded the acknowledgement that he had botched his attempt at helping out.
The husband smiled back and nodded - it was a nod of - who gives a shit, I ain't holding the baby anymore.
Isn't that cute?
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