Sayounara, Baby

Will, my baby, my third and final child, turns 4 in July. He can dress himself. He can even get his shoes and socks on. If the milk carton isn't too heavy, he can pour himself a glass. He can walk next door to play with his friend M. The last bit of his baby fat is long gone. And the other day he buckled his seat belt.

Mastering the seat belt is the last milestone on the road out of Babyville. Watching the last traces of babyhood slip away can make a mother a little melancholy, remembering the warm little bundle who used to caress your breast as he nursed. Watching your preschooler race around the yard can make a mother wistful, recalling the first time those chubby legs stood alone. And I'd just like to say,

I am not that mother.

When that seatbelt clicked, I heard a bolt lock slide back, and a metal door swing open. I turned in my orange jumpsuit, had my wallet and my pack of cigs returned to me at the guard's station, and I stood outside the gate, grinning, with my face toward the sun.

Okay, a part of me was sad, but the other parts of me had already formed a Conga line, and the champagne was flowing freely.

Frankly, I think I'm allergic to babies. When I see someone else's adorable little cherub, the last thing I want to do is scoop her up and cover her face with kisses. Because babies? Are slobbery, and helpless. And rotten conversationalists. I'll just give a tiny wave and coo to her from over here. And the crying? Absolutely panic inducing. Everyone tells you that your mother's instinct will kick in, that you'll know why your wee one is so torrentially unhappy, but my mother's instinct must have ditched me, sneaking off to have a smoke in the girl's bathroom, because I usually had no clue about what was so horribly wrong. How hard could life be, when you don't even have to wipe your own butt?

I would gladly trade in a fussy baby for a screaming toddler, any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. Because at least when a toddler is banging his head against the dishwasher, and doing his best impression of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, I  have some idea what's wrong. I've stupidly given him the wrong colored binky, or prevented him from french kissing the electrical outlet, or refused to give him a sip of my vodka gimlet (okay I don't really drink gimlets, but I like to pretend I was one of those 40's mothers who wore crinoline skirts, and had a cocktail hour... and a maid (Consuela)). Somehow, knowing what's wrong, makes it so much more tolerable.

Will was much easier as a baby than he was as a toddler. He slept well, he was easy going, always had a ready smile, and robust belly laugh (I do miss that). Still in all, I'd prefer to deal with him as an unruly toddler, than as a mild-mannered baby. The vulnerability of infancy was so overwhelming. I'm sure it was a combination of hormones and sleep deprivation, but when my kids were babies I couldn't read news stories about children being harmed (heck, I couldn't even watch Kodak commercials). I couldn't stand to hear a baby wail with grief without wanting to join them.

The light at the end of the tunnel begins to flicker for me at about one year. They start to walk, and they attempt to feed themselves (even though most of it ends up in their hair). Over the next few months their personality develops more, along with their will. That bit of independance is a huge relief to me, even though it's accompanied by some screaming and thrashing (hey, that could come in handy if they ever want to try out for Metallica).

Sitting in the car seat on that fateful day, he demanded to buckle HIMSELF. He wrangled with the strap, and intently focused on aligning the parts of the buckle. And then it all clicked, and we grinned at each other. He said, "I'm such a big boy!" And I said, "You sure are, baby."

Comments

[sarah]

Congratulations! You have survived babyhood. I'm on the road there.

I love my babies, and I love to kiss them all over, slobbery as they are, but for the first year or so, all your job is is to keep them alive. Life is so much more rewarding when they start to interact. I am so very much looking forward to the point when both my girls can walk and talk and feed themselves and we can actually have fun together and get to know each other.

[DM]

I am so glad to know that there's someone else out there that gets me. The only reason I don't want children (well, other than the fact that I am highly irresponsible and also always broke, two things that do not go well with child-raising) is that babies and I do not function on the same wavelength. I like children over the ages of 6 (although I am quite fond of my nephew (he's 2), the child scares me half to death)). They scream and cry for no reason, they throw up at the drop of a hat, etc.

I have actually considered adopting a 16 year old (I know, I am insane) because I like teenagers and hey, it would be nice to have a live-in chauffeur since I don't drive. Do you think teenagers nowadays like El Caminos?

I do have to say that I love reading about your kids and you have been responsible for a "maybe small children wouldn't be that bad" moment or two. Hey, maybe you could them my way when they're old enough to drive? What do you think?

[Bethiclaus]

I've never much liked babies myself. I'm trying not to wish Alliclaus' babyhood away, but I can't wait for the day when she can tell me what's wrong.

[dollymama]

Well, you've made me laugh, plus made me identify. Although I DO love babies quite a bit, I have DONE the baby thing AND the toddler thing AND the preschooler thing, and done it all til it nearly sent me to the looney bin. People say you'll look back on these days as the best days of our life, but I don't believe it. Frankly, I can barely remember most of what happened in the last 13 years, so I sure ain't shedding any tears about the loss of it. I cheer for my good fortune every time we cross another milestone out of Babyville. My baby is 3 and can buckle his own car seat. We are not far behind you.

Part of me wishes that my situation had been different and I could have successfully gone on to have more kids, but since it is what it is, I'm just glad I've lived through it. :)

[Susan]

My baby is also turning four in July, and every time he says NO I WILL DO IT MYSELF about anything (and he says it about EVERYTHING these days, from getting a glass of water to brushing his teeth to curing cancer), I do a little happy dance (a foxtrot, of course, so I don't spill my martini).

He will always be my baby, but I am ready for him to be a big boy. Now if I could just teach him to make me that martini . . .

[Marianne]

Well, I must be doing something wrong, because my "baby" who is four and a half is not only not buckling his own seatbelt, he is not putting his own shoes and socks on! What the hell? I always just figured he knows good and well he is the baby in this house there is no need for him to rush into doing anything for himself....but I am right there with you Sheryl, I did not shed a single tear when that boy turned four.

[Elizabeth]

What?! Mothering babies is not rosy-hued bliss? You have shattered my illusions, Sheryl. SHATTERED.

But seriously, once I met two women (both mothers of babies) at 4:30 am on a Saturday so we could hit a Garnet Hill tent sale (I know-- dumber things have happened)-- anyway, we were driving along in silence except for the slurping of coffee to drag us over the wall into consciousness and we enjoyed the sunrise over the mountains I infamously said, "I always wondered what it must be like to wake up so early each day-- you guys see sunrises every day, right? As you feed the baby?"

Such was my rosy vision of those 4am feedings.

To their credit, both women restrained from pushing me out the door as the car sped along at 65 mph. But as I reflect back on it-- it may have only been spared because I was driving.

[Marilyn]

Love this post! I've never been a fan of babies. I know, I know, it might have been different if I'd given birth to one...but I suspect I'd be like you...because between 12 and 18 months is when I fall in love with little people. But from then on, I'm smitten...

[sweetney]

i know, its a little scary. mina will be 4 in september, and already i look at her and think: she's become a kid. she's not a toddler or preschooler anymore, she's a kid.

and though a large part of me is happy to have the hyper-dependence of baby & toddlerdom behind us, i too can't help but feel a litle wistful. sniff.

[marian]

i totally agree. it's a huge relief when they begin to be able to communicate, even if what they're communicating is NO! I, unfortunately, have now graduated into the 'waiting for grandchildren' phase and have an unrealistically rosy and completely false recollection of what babies are like. Because I never have to do that again. God, I hope not, anyway.

[Jill]

What a coincident! My daughter turned four TODAY and I just posted about it on our blog ...
http://www.siliconvalleymomsblog.com

I feel like my babies are all grown up!

[That Girl]

I hear ya! Im the exact same way - cant stand the baby part. But now that my oldest is a teen I admit to looking at him and wishing he could be younger for longer...

I miss cuddling on the couch and him thinking Im the greatest.

Now he might think it but he would die before saying it and I get dissed on a daily basis as if Im 110 years old.

Just wait until YOU become the Daily, Constant Embarassment and then you might wish for a little clock-turning ability.

But Im right there with ya on the baby thing.

[Amy (binkytown)]

Thank you- you said that brilliantly. I have a 16 month old and LOVE HIM but with each passing month, my sigh gets a little deeper..

[kris]

oh, how I loved reading that. Just knowing that I'm not the only knuckle-head without a "mothering instinct" makes me feel so much better.