Saturday, June 2, 2012

spazz baby

The only word that really feels right to describe my baby is “spazz,” but at some point between junior high and today that term became completely offensive. So, I apologize.  Baby experts -- they tell you that though your kid may be “excitable” and “exuberant,” this is because he is actually “advanced.” Really? I would like him to advance himself toward some building blocks and amuse himself for 37 seconds so mom could blow dry three-quarters of her hair.
I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it, too. I’m telling myself daily that I have no right to complain. I have a brilliant, healthy baby. What about parents with real problems? They wish their biggest concern were never getting to sit still. I know. I’m sorry. This is a high-quality problem. Still, thinking about those who have it worse doesn’t change the fact that some have it easy. You know who you are. You go rolling by me as your kid meditates peacefully in the shopping cart, blissed out like the Dalai Lama with a pacifier and a sippy cup of Propofol. In the two seconds I waste in amazement over your stone cold baby, I’ve missed the fact that mine is now clutching a jar of strawberry jam over his head like a grenade.

Motherhood, while rewarding and life changing, is getting to be like The Hurt Locker.  ,)
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