“Aren’t you a happy baby? Yes you are. Yes you are! What a happy baby!”
They cooed at each other while I aggressively scrubbed the yellow crust that had collected on a shelf support long before we moved into the house. I withdrew from the cold, white box, tripping over the cat before retrieving a stiffer brush from the kitchen counter.
“Life is pretty good, isn’t it, kiddo? You’re bouncing on a warm lap and you can see both Mildred and your mom.” The baby squealed as is if on cue. “I know! You make the best noises!” The sound of slobbery smooches distracted me from the solidified strawberry juice that caked the water tubing at the base of the fridge. I smiled and pulled back to peer around the stainless steel door.
“I swear this is just the most precious baby ever…” She sighed wistfully as she looked from him to me. “You know, I could finish that. I didn’t start it just so you would have another project. You’re already so tired…”
“Or you could continue holding your grandson,” I interrupted. “How often do you get to do that?”
She slathered his tiny, mohawked head with more kisses. “I DO like doing that quite a bit more than cleaning a fridge.” She stopped her fawning to look at the infant more intently. “I have to admit though, I have a hard time thinking of you as a mother.”
“You and me both, lady.” I shook my head and covered the brush with baking soda. “You and me both.”
I love cleaning gunk. And you’ve always been a mother. *laugh track*
I don’t just think of you as a Mother. I think of you as a “Mutha”!
You are already so far beyond where I was at this point when I first reproduced. I refused to let anyone except my mother even touch the baby because of the germ factories I imagined crawling on their filty hands.
I was all “You wipe your ASS with those hands! Don’t touch my new human! It’s still flawless!”
Sadly, I went and fucked everyone up anyway so I should have just let random people pick them up whenever they wanted to and gotten some sleep.
Why can’t Mildred clean the fridge? Gawd, cats. They’re so friggin’ “entitled.”
Gah. that first year, seriously, such a mindfuck. And our parents g’blessum, see line above.
But sometimes letting someone else bounce and squeeze happy notes out of our offspring while we get something done is pretty much all we can ask for. And in its own way, it is enough.
But I agree with Debra She Who Seeks. Mildred should help out more.
You know, the only hesitation I have around not wanting to have babies is depriving my parents of grandkids?
I wish I could just go to the store and buy them a few.
I can’t even begin to describe how much I think you will rock at the mother thing.
Elly-fy that boy.
Did I forget to mention that you should think about writing professionally?
Cleaning gunk DEFINITELY makes you a Mom.
Two lucky children and to excellent mothers in the same room. *swoon*
If you ask me, you’re doing a pretty good job so far. Methinks, however, you have been duped.
“…You know, I could finish that… Youâ€™re already so tired…” *goes back to playing with baby*
Love it, love it, love it. Makes me want to go back to that magical time when my kids were babies. Uh, or not.
I didn’t clean my fridge until my kid was…uh, how old is he again? You are rocking the shit out of motherhood. And looking good doing it.
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