Mama Loves Babies

As you might imagine, we've been talking a lot about babies around here recently—reading books from the library about bringing home a new baby, hanging out with friends with babies, practicing safe holding habits with our baby dolls, preparing the new baby's room and wardrobe, complaining about the baby taking up space where my lungs rightfully belong—that sort of thing. I've been very concerned about the two-year old feeling displaced by her new sibling so have been trying to keep the lines of communication open about the situation without planting any ideas in her head (like, "Are you feeling so, so mad inside that when the new baby comes the amount of attention you're currently getting will be cut by more than half and your life will never be the same?"). So far she seems pretty cool about it all.

As she was happily feeding a bottle to one of her dolls the other day, I asked her if she loved babies. She said, "No—Mama loves babies." She said it with just a hint of judgment, a suggestion of an eye-roll, the way a loving, doting daughter might say, "Mama loves lottery tickets" or "Mama loves whiskey" or "Mama loves K-Mart."

I suppose this is good. She knows where I stand. I do love me some babies, especially the ones that spring forth from my loins. (This month, people! This baby is coming out sometime THIS MONTH!)

photo courtesy idahoeditor, morgueFile