I hate babies

Okay, maybe hate is too strong a word. But by no means, am I fan of babies. When someone shows up at a gathering with their infant, many of my friends go out of their way to hold the baby. Personally, I prefer to admire their cuteness from afar. If I do hold the baby, I’m pretty happy to quickly hand the baby off to another after a moment or two. If it’s my own baby at said gathering, I’ll gladly hand him to the first person who expresses interest in his cute cherub cheeks, and then go find myself a much needed strong drink.

Years ago, while studying photojournalism at the University of Missouri, I shot a photo story on a young couple with two-month-old twin boys. I had never felt a strong maternal instinct, but I found the concept of motherhood fascinating. It’s not that I necessarily didn’t want to have children, but I felt a bit indifferent about it, as my uterus was never wont to ache. Journalism provided me a great way to get a glimpse at this thing called motherhood, without actually having to give birth. I’ll always remember the mother I was photographing making the comment, “I like kids more than babies, but you have to have babies to have kids.” These days, I find I truly appreciate the simple truth in her statement. I love my two kids, but man, do I hate babies. Okay . . . maybe I should go with resents babies.

As I write this, I am at a coffee shop with my 4-month-old son William. I’ve been here about an hour now trying to compose one simple email. I think he’s finally napping, but I have no idea how much time I’ll actually have to take advantage of both my hands and really use my keyboard. Looks like about a half an hour . . . grrrrr. Back to one hand typing as I use my left hand to gently move the stroller to keep William in a semi-sleeping state. Feed baby, entertain baby, try to get baby to sleep when he gets cranky, take advantage of a very indeterminate amount of free time to get something semi-productive done then REPEAT. Throw in a weekly trip to Target with a ticking time bomb and a whiny 5-year-old who’ll inevitably need to go potty by the time we hit the dairy case, and that’s pretty much my life right now.

Just fed William the remnant of a bottle as he’s lying swaddled up like a burrito in his stroller. I think it worked to put him back to sleep. Time - 11:23 a.m.

So . .  as I was saying, I strongly dislike babies. Then why, after having a rough experience with my first son, did I think it’d be a good idea to have another one five years later? Well, I like kids and I like being a mom, and yes, you have to have babies to have kids. I also figured I was worth doubling the chances of having a caregiver in my old age. Yes, someday one of these boys will change MY diapers . . . I hope. I am grateful that William has been an easier baby than his older brother Oskar. Past experience helps. I know that babies aren’t babies forever and that what my life looks like right now is very temporary. Of course, I should have realized that with Oskar, too, but at the time, everything was so new, so hard and so sleep deprived that it felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. And then I blinked, and now Oskar is 5 and I’m starting all over again with William.

Time - 11:30 a.m. - William is awake and crying. Time to escape the coffee shop.

So often I’ll hear about how I should be cherishing these fleeting baby moments with my little one. They’re over so quickly, those sweet baby snuggles, the tiny onsies and wide-eyed gazes filled with wonder. Maybe I’m just heartless, but frankly, I can’t stop aging William in my mind and looking forward to a time when he’s older, when he can tell me why he’s crying and what he needs. I can’t wait to never change another dirty diaper. I can’t wait to get more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep in a night. I can’t wait to stop talking in third person and stop using the word ‘potty’ instead of bathroom. I can’t wait to never wash another baby bottle.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in a hurry for him to be a teenager, grow up and move out of the house.  Really, I’d just like to fast-forward through this first year. And once we’re through the first year, time can slow down again. In fact, it can become even slower than normal, as I’m in no hurry to reach the next diaper wearing phase of my life.

I realize the toddler years are full of their own challenges, but damn it, they’re so much more fun than the year of the baby. I hate babies . . . but you have to have babies to have kids.

Five-months down, seven to go!

Okay, he is quite a cutie and melts my icy, icy heart with that smile . . .