Babies. Yikes!

I was fortunate enough to spend the weekend with one of my best friends from college, her husband and their precious little 14-or-so month old (from what I understand, that’s how people count kids’ ages, by month, until they’re—I don’t know—teenagers?). I love my time with one of my favorite, little families and seeing the remarkable growth the little one makes between each trip. I spent this weekend largely monopolized by trying to teach her to say my name, “Biz!!” with jazz hands! Classic KB. And utterly unsuccessful.

I’ve said since I was 5 years old (or 60 months) that I wasn’t going to have any kids. In fact, my sister and I have told my mom on many occasions that it’s a good thing she’s a labor and delivery nurse because that’s her best shot at spending quality time with babies. However, with many of my friends popping out little bundles of love, I’ve gotten in some quality baby time, and it doesn’t seem so scary. Maybe I could even do it! Well, wait. Let me rephrase that. It didn’t seem so scary.

All weekend, my friends' kid was the essence of adorable. Really, she is among the cutest kids I’ve ever met. She just learned how to say “thank you” (and she can’t pop out a “Biz”!?), so any time she gave any of us anything—her toys, hugs, precious kisses, her lunch, our cell phones that had previously been hidden—she would say, “thank you!” in the cutest little voice I’ve ever heard. (She also did it more appropriately when we’d give her things, but that wasn’t as funny.) We went to get ice cream, she chased around a poodle in such a state of toddler glee, and I almost melted!

And then it all came crashing down. While we were finishing up a gorgeously scenic cliff walk in Newport, RI, and waiting for Dad to go get the car, the tot went into full-on meltdown mode. I’ve never seen anything like it! It was behavior like I had previously thought one sees only on TV or in movies. My friend, and the kid’s mom, also said she had never seen anything like it, but I have a strong feeling parents outright lie to the childless. It can be the only explanation for humanity’s continued procreation.

The previously baby-food-commercial-worthy adorable toddler was thrashing around on the ground emitting screams that could have justified an exorcism. We’d try and pick her up, and she’d plant her feet on our bodies and push her entire weight against our arms trying to free herself from such unjustified repression. Dad finally showed up with the car, and the screaming continued. On our way out of town, the ear-splitting screaming continued. I helpfully pointed out buildings I thought might be orphanages or at least day cares, but there were no takers. Almost, but not quite.

Half an hour into the hour-long ride, she abruptly stopped crying and started singing and joyfully cooing. What?!?! Excuse me?! That’s it? It just stops?? No explanation, no apology, just suddenly a complete transformation?! I couldn’t help it, but I found myself angry that her crazy, unexplained outburst could so easily be forgotten in that little mind!

She did go on to win me back. How could anyone be anything but completely in love with that tiny strawberry-blonde head and kissable cheeks?! I mean, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’m back firmly in the “this womb will bear no fruit” camp. Being a mom is a LOT of work! Sure, it seems rewarding, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Of course, one “Biz” and a jazz hand or two, and I could, maybe, be back on the fence!