Thursday, September 19, 2013

On babies.


Take a look at this:


Redd Alexander Hansen.

My newest nephew.

In a word: DANGER.

This face, these perfect little pictures, are dangerous for me. They bring me back, back to that magical place that I'm jealously pining for just a bit as I think about Dan and Ali sitting there, in their home, cuddling his cuteness. I think about that feeling and that first day with your new person. The introductory hours that are both so primal and transcendent, as you stare and study and obsess and then stare and study and obsess some more over their little features, their presence, their little being. Sniffing and snuggling and nursing. Mmmmmm shiver mmmmmh! It's unbelievable. Just so unbelievable.

And it's like when I'm in it, when it's my baby, I'm almost not even aware enough to understand what I'm experiencing. I'm in the story so deep I don't really look around all that much. So watching it from the outside, watching someone else welcome their baby, and just knowing on some level what is happening, what it means? Getting to simply witness all of this miraculous-ness? So, sooooo dangerous for me. Because it re-opens that sneaky temptation that maybe, just maybe, my self-proclaimed purpose in life really should be to keep having babies until my uterus explodes.

 I mean, just look at him!


.........................................................................................

Now, onto my babies:

Just look at them

Buckle your seat belts, 
cuz this shiz is about to get fa realz.



Babies are sly devils. They really sucker you in with their charm and cuddlish-ness and Redd Alexander-ish vibes and juju. And before you know it, just you wait...

Monsters. They become monsters. Not even human beings, really. Because all the humanizing, civilizing part? That's YOUR job. Parenting is nothing more than Civilizing the Uncivilized, as my Papa Dan used to say.


And, much to my shock and dismay, forming humans and fostering civility requires discipline and consistency.

Oh mother of all that is holy, consistency is such a bugger. It's just demands so much...?...I dunno, being consistent? Really. It's super annoying.

Take meals, for example. Just one line item on the infinite list of parental responsibilities. Do you remember all those pediatric pamphlets they gave you at the hospital, detailing all that blahblahblah information about how children need at least THREE square, healthy meals every day? Well, apparently they really mean it. Like there are all of these charts and scientific theories and laws that prove it or something. eye. roll. Snacks too. Snacks in between meals. That essentially means that motherhood and kitchenhood are one and the same.

Mom, I'm hungry. What's for lunch?

What?! Whats the matta' wich you? I fed you lunch yest-ah-day! What do I look like here? The patron Saint of Spaghettios a' somethin?! You twalkin' ta me?

And kids, let me tell you, have a terrible sense of humor. Their repeated, blank stares in return signal absolutely no appreciation what.so.ever. for my jersey/bronx accent and earth shattering wit. 
Tough crowd eh eH? How aboutz we do this? mamas gonna get you a real nice hawt dawg, smotha it in some kechoop and bada bing bada boom, you gonna nominate ya mama for motha of the frigginyear awawd, how bout them apples?

{{{More blank stares}}}



And then there's the issue of mornings. Babies, and children, wake up in the actual morning hours. And morning, by their tyrannical definition, means something earlier than 10 AM. In my world, morning was once a lovely, brief window of time between 9 and 10 AM. 10am until noon signaled late morning. Noon to six was the afternoon, and six to 1am was the evening. The hours between 1am and 9am were largely non-existent to my consciousness, unless it involved reckless shenanigans and behavior unbecoming-of-a-lady with my husband.


And I've discussed before how mornings aren't my thang. But, I'll be danged if you can't help but get sucked right in when a swishy diapered person comes barging through your bedroom door shouting happy things and acting like the world really is a super awesome, worthwhile place. And the craziest part of all? All of this momentum, all of their excitement and parading through the hallways seems to be largely directed at seeing you!? You are the superhero. They run up to your disheveled, hot mess of bedhead and morning breath and kiss you and hug you like they haven't seen you since, well, yesterday.







4 comments:

Alexis said...

Big Belly laugh...I'm dying laughing, heart is dying...I'm so lucky all these adorables are my grandkids. The parents of them all aren't too bad either.
Someone said the other day "Alexis, you and Ira seem to have some magical formula for turning out 1 incredible kid after another (she was talking about Mallory - lest you others think YOU were the topic of conversation;)...
I just said "We got dealt a pretty great hand"!
LOVE LOVE THESE PICS...LOVE LOVE ALL THESE PEOPLE I GET TO CALL FAMILY...LOVE LOVE LOVE that you record it all.
MOM

Katy Nicole. said...

Baby Redd is SO perfect!!!

And these pictures of Ellie and Emerson..no words. Dying from their cuteness. I will forever love Emerson's ears.

Your uterus exploding?!!
Hahaha where do you come up with this stuff!!?

Love ya, Rae!

Rachel Haack said...

Thanks ma. I knew you would appreciate my new yawk accent. Badabing.

Rachel Haack said...

Emerson and I are jealous of Minky's handsome head of hair!!!