On being everyone’s mama

While it is surely possible that the world had just as many babies in it during all the years I was a childless adult, it just seems to me that now-- since I have had Hudson--babies are everywhere. Nine months ago, and I hope this doesn’t sound callous, I didn’t really notice them. Something must happen when you become a parent. It is like you are endowed with some type of baby radar that overtakes your entire being. Everywhere you go, you zone into babies. You smile at them. You feel compelled to chat to them as they pass. You feel a sense of urgency by their cries.

I did my best in Florida to keep my Mama Radar at bay. (And I am not talking about our fellow travelers; I can only hope to be as good of a mama as my friend Colbey.) I am referring to all the babies on the beach. At the pool. At the airshow. I couldn’t hardly pass a child without wondering whether they were wearing adequate sun block, needed a sun hat, had their stroller lapbelt fastened, should be that far out in the ocean, etc. I almost jumped out of my beach chair when I saw this one little girl floating out past the first sandbar wearing nothing but a silly around-the-waist floatie. Luckily her mama decided to wake up and intervene.

It stresses me out to feel this way, but I can’t help it. Last night at the grocery store (it was 9:38 p.m.) there was this little one year old behind me in line with his mama. He was sooo tired and sooo grumpy and his mother didn’t seem to have much patience for him. I just wanted to take him off to lawn and garden and rock him to sleep in some chaise chair.

And…sorry while I keep babbling…if I hear that “Teach your kid how to use 9-1-1” commercial on the radio one more time, I am going to scream. Little six year old Timmy’s voice as he desperately calls 911 to help his mama makes me cry everytime. Effective? Yes. Tears while driving? A problem. Actually any story of a child in pain bothers me so much anymore that I can hardly tolerate the news at all.

Hudson also is noticing every single child around us. He flaps his arms and gets real excited whenever someone pint-sized comes around. Yesterday he squealed so loud at a little boy that the child took off the other direction. (Sorry, kid.) It is really cute how he watches other babies too. His squawking babbles show his interest in everything they do.

There is no real point to all this; just an observation. I am glad I notice babies now. The world is much better with them in it. I love it when people notice Hudson. Now, if I just knew what to do when someone comes up to him and says, “What is youuuuuuur name?” I am supposed to answer this, right? It is so awkward. I feel like I am a ventriloquist or something when I say his name. One time I want to say, “Oh, I am sorry. He doesn’t talk yet.”