Mommies Paradise

“…That baby…” as in “Why won’t That baby sleep?” or “Why does That baby stink to high heaven?” or “Is That baby going to take a nap?” or “Does that baby stink… again?” or “When is that baby going to sleep?” You must see a pattern.

Maybe it is because That Baby is my first baby but I spend a lot of time wondering when That Baby’s mother is going to come over and change That Baby’s really stinky, gooey diaper and then get That Baby to go to sleep. Ultimately, That mother never shows up. Then I deliriously recall nine months of carrying around that alien in my uterus and the “glorious” delivery of said alien, and I am left holding the bag, or the toxic diaper as it were, eyes watering and drooping from fumes and fatigue.

So we continue to refer to the baby as That Baby since to us, he is the ONLY Baby. Mr. Daddy says we shouldn’t call him That Baby in front of his family. They might not understand and look at us funny. I say they already don’t understand and already look at me funny so what’s the difference?

In the morning, when the sun is coming in the window just right and shining on the crib which holds That Baby, and he looks at me with those huge blue eyes and the curious blonde curls surround his face like a halo… well, it is suddenly okay that his diaper is holding some toxic fumed excretion that I will need tongs and a hose to remedy.