Remember when you use to choose your friends based on similar interests or a mutual love for tequila? Now we base it on who isn't going to judge you for busting open a bottle of wine at play dates and who's kids aren't going to make you put your head through the wall. There's nothing more awkward then trying to figure out how to tell someone else's preschooler to stop running on your beige carpet in their mud covered boots as their mother is standing RIGHT THERE. I hate parenting other people's kids. Don't get me wrong, if your elementary aged kids are jumping, climbing, and roughhousing on the slide at the park while my 3 year old stands there patiently waiting to go down I have no problem asking them to get off while you take facebook selfies on the bench. Oh yea lady, I'd avoid eye contact with me too after I've had to tell your little boys to stop using the F word around my babies.
Back to babysitting. I never thought I'd procreate again after those first 6 months of colic, I believe my exact words were "I'm getting my tubes tied, oh screw it, just cut them off!" But my ears stopped ringing all the time and I regained some of my sanity after that first year. The thing is, even when it was bad, Conor still managed to light up my life every single day. So I was willing to even go through colic again.
When I had a baby that slept longer then 45-90 minute increments, was out of our bed by the second month, only cried when you put her down, and took more then 2 power naps a day I thought "JACKPOT!" This is going to be a cinch. Granted, it's not. But comparatively it's been more manageable.
Then there's my friend's baby. I don't know if this is normal or what, but when I say this baby just "hangs out," I mean it. She didn't even cry out of hunger, it was like a little whimper. When she got sleepy she promptly handled it herself by simply GOING TO SLEEP. I didn't have to turn out all the lights, crank up the noise machine, put her in the one and only designated sleeping spot and have everyone in a 5 mile radius whisper. It was freaky. During awake time she hung out in the bouncer, smiling, cooing, and playing with the toys. Yes, you heard that right, she actually PLAYED with TOYS. Here I thought those things were just for decor. Who wants to chew on a teething ring when you can gnaw at mommy's finger, am I right?
All the while Riley is trying to decide between the play mat, the rock n play, the highchair, and mommy's arms. "Hm, no this does not make me happy, let's try the play mat one more time, nope, definitely think you should just hold me all day today mommy...WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE COOKING RIGHT NOW?" And Conor is talking a mile a minute, trying to show our baby friend all his cars while I tell him to stop shouting in her face (even though it doesn't seem to phase her one bit), and periodically riding his bike through the house asking me to "please move all these babies so I have more room."
Then I realized something. I make really high maintenance children. C is right, they are so ME. Heaven help us all.
It's one of those things though. Yea it's exhausting, but my two goofy, little booger butts are bursting with personality and I'm never lacking for comedy.
Oh but wait it gets better, our visitor? She took a BINKY, loved it, apparently happily sucks away at it all day. I can't even imagine. I'm a little jealous on that one. My children would get angry at the very suggestion. A pacifier? PLEASE. I'll take your finger/nipple/phone/anything else thank you very much. Get out of here with that pacifier nonsense.
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