Mommas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys
Yesterday my baby turned four. We went out for lunch. We went swimming in the pool. She helped make her very own Mickey Mouse head shaped chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles. All while wearing her brand new Tinkerbell dress, of course. Then we went out and rode bikes for a little while. She had a good time.
I am painfully aware of the fact that I no longer have, and will never have again, tiny babies. Instead I have bright beautiful little people with plenty of attitude and ideas of their own. My life has changed so much. I noticed it while in the pool yesterday. I quietly floated along propped up on a big yellow noodle. My three little snorkelers were busy doing their thing. They don't want held. They don't play in the baby pool. They don't require swim diapers and umbrella covered floating boats. They just slap on some fins and some SPF 45 and off they go. Occasionally, I have to readjust their mask. Other than that they are independent. I just float along and make sure they aren't sinking or choking.
I was politely trying hard not to beat the living hell out of some stupid cigarette smoking white trash late teen/ very early twenties girls yesterday who decided in all their combined wisdom to bring their newborn preemie neice to the pool and wonder why she was screaming at the top of her little fragile lungs twenty minutes after they got there. It was hot. The sun was no doubt brutal on her poor sensitive skin. The stupid aunt who held her the most while the other ones smoked confessed that the mother had no clue that she was taking her baby to the pool as she was babysitting for the day. I secretely hoped the mother murdered her for it later.
She asked me for sunblock and then proceeded to try to apply it to the baby while she was in the water. It kind of turned to the consistency of milk and made a cloud in the water around her. So I dried the baby off with my towel and then applied the sunblock to her torso and limbs while the stupid aunt held her. I wanted to put it on her face but thought better of it since I wanted no part of the child endangerment portion of the lawsuit the mother would no doubt file later.
I also suggested that they take the now fifty pound wet pamper off of her as it was probably cutting off her circulation in her belly and legs it had swelled so tight. As they did this she calmed down drastically for about ten minutes until they decided to plop her back into the pool and sit around the edge with her and light up. I tried to enlighten them about swim diapers but they just looked at me like I was speaking Japanese. Eventually, they all three started looking at me worriedly as if I magically knew why she was wailing again. I suggested they at least wet a towel and put over her head to keep the direct sunlight off of her skin.
I wanted to tell them that they should fucking know better than to take a tiny premature newborn to the pool at 1 p.m. and sit around and blow smoke in her face and to take her straight home, clean her up, let her suck on a bottle or a pacifier or something until she calms herself down and then call Children's Services and turn themselves in for being so fucking stupid.
Yes, I am aware that my job description has changed drastically. I am aware that there are stupid people out there taking care of innocent little babies and flopping their little necks every which way and filling their tiny lungs with second hand smoke and making their heads flat by never picking them up and not really having the first fucking clue about how to interact with a tiny baby.
It was extremely clear to me yesterday why I get so sentimental over this. I was made to have babies. It is the thing I am good at. Now mine are all grown up. Learning to read and write. I no longer smell of Johnson's baby bath or Desitin. I gave up nursing bras and burp pads for animated character sippy cups. It is all about Disney band-aids and Hello Kitty rhinestone jewelry now.
When I have to give up this for dating, cars, high heels, make up and mini skirts I am going to freak out completely. Logan is nearly a pre-teen as it is. Thank heaven I still have a few years left before the girls hit this stage.
Posted by gwendolyn on July 10, 2003 at 09:29 AM