Ok, I didn't ask it. I wanted to. I was really close to once. But then "vulture mommy" came by and stole said baby. She spent the next 25 minutes gushing over this baby, vibrantly expressing her superior mommy skills, her unmatchable expertise at the art of baby de-gassing. Obviously she wasn't comparing herself to me...I was just the young non-mommy looking on, watching intently at the opportunity of possibly holding this tiny 3 week old creature.
Don't get me wrong. The idea of holding someone else's baby brings on an awkward amount of discomfort. Depending on the moment, I can feel rather squeamish, terrified almost. Or I can feel completely at home. Future mommy of the year. Mostly squeamish, though. I mean, I'm not that creature's mother. What if I make it cry? What if I drop it for God's sake? Then I'm the awful person who obviously hasn't mothered anything in her life and can't even keep a tiny innocent baby safe for more than two and a half minutes. Yes, I fear making other people's babies cry. Is that so wrong? I think if I make my own baby cry in the future, it won't be so bad. Then again, if "vulture mommy" is there when that happens, there's a good chance I'll be in for a 25 minute lecture on the "better way" to raise my own child.
But alas, I sat there. Watching vulture mommy de-gas the baby. Watching her fawn over this tiny creature and rant about how badly she misses when her three children were that tiny...but how naturally it all came back to her. Actual mommy came to steal her baby back after this had gone on for far too long. But of course, before she could retrieve him, vulture mommy had to explain the ins and outs of successfully removing "tooties" and how she learned this all in her hay day.
I vowed at that moment to keep my words of wisdom to myself when it comes to child rearing. No matter how "Mommy of the Year" I may be, every mother has her own way. Mine had the best way, I have to admit. So I'll take lessons from my own upbringing, I'll ask my own mother, and then I'll keep my mouth shut as often as humanly possible.
Until then, I'll sit back and wish I had the guts to ask for a few minutes of holding a baby. But I'll probably be better off just waiting to screw up my own kid. No need to feel the pressure of not screwing up somebody else's...
Quote of the Day for yesterday (as I just woke up and the only quote I've heard today was B asking why the hell I was awake and on the computer already...):
B: "When it works, the little kids swing at the bottom."
Me: "That makes it even more terrifying."
B bought an antique clock to resell because it was going for so cheap. Well, it came in the mail a couple of days ago and this thing is atrocious. I mean, it's B's new hobby so I'm all about it. But man, who would buy this thing? (Other than my husband...of course) It has a little girl and a little boy hanging down from the clock on swings, where the pendulum would go on a not-so-horrifying grandfather clock. The best part is that these little kids have the most devastating looks on their partially painted, melting, faces. Their mouths have kind of rubbed off to the point where it looks like little girl is screaming, and her eyes are just these little beady dots. Did I mention that their cheekbones are abnormally large? Well anyway, this thing is just sitting in our computer room staring at me right now. Apparently, when the clock is functioning, these little kids swing back and forth. It reminds me of The Shining or something. uuuuuugggh. ::shutter::