We are now on day two of what my sister has lovingly named "Zoe's birth control promotion week." I am currently out in LA celebrating my nephew Max's first birthday-- which means spending every day, 7am to 7pm (approximately the time I pass out from exhaustion), with a toddler. Right now, I am watching him try to eat dog food:
Until Max was born, I had never really known a baby. I don't have any younger cousins, and I was only 2 when my little brother was born. The first time we were ever left alone together, I hit him over the head with a whiffle ball bat. I have only ever babysat once: my junior year of high school, for my math teacher's three year old daughter. The little girl made me watch the same episode of Dora the Explorer three times and screamed until I hand fed her an entire bag of Goldfish. She also insisted running around in only a tiara and a pair of fairy wings, which was beyond uncomfortable. Her parents came home to a house covered in cheese powder and their child dancing around naked to "Hakuna Matata." Needless to say, I was not asked back.
Because of all this, I am fairly confident that I don't have a single maternal bone in my body. I mean, look at me-- I don't exactly scream Mary Poppins. I think my sister got whatever maternal instincts our genetics had to offer (trust me, there weren't many to go around), because she is the most amazing mother I have ever seen.
I haven't seen Max in 6 months, which means that although he is now more difficult for me to dress in my accessories, he has a LOT more personality. He has also begun to eat solid foods. His favorite is sweet potatoes, which he lovingly mashes up and tries to feed to everyone around him. I have NO idea where he learned how to do that, as the rest of his family has never been very generous when it comes to sharing food. We will, however, happily accept his ABC sweet potatoes and mashed up birthday cupcakes. Baby food, by the way, is delicious. Max requires constant entertainment, which usually comes in the form of a makeshift drumset or the TiVo'd recording of "Lady Gaga: Live at Madison Square Garden." Sometimes, we read him the same story anywhere from 2 to 14 times, and entertain ourselves by doing each rendition in a different accent. Today, when Max refused to go down for his afternoon nap, we all got in the car and drove around listening to lullabies until he fell asleep. During our hour and a half road trip around Beverly Hills, I learned that: #1)After 9 years of French, I am still unable to translate the second verse of "Frere Jacques" and #2)All Nursery rhymes are either morbid or dirty.
As much as I love my nephew, a day with him is exhausting. Being a Mom is a LOT of work, and I honestly don't know how my sister does it. I totally get why those teen mom girls are so effed up-- I think I would be too if I had to trade Friday nights at the mall for formula and dirty diapers. For now, at least, I think I will leave the parenting to my sister, who is truly a rockstar. And so (until I am at LEAST 30) I have earned the position of the cool Aunt. Exactly 20 years from today, I will be 40 (omg.) and taking my nephew out for (what better be) his first beer.
Happy birthday Max, and congratulations to my sister and brother-in-law for surviving their first year of parenthood. Love you all!!!!
Until Max was born, I had never really known a baby. I don't have any younger cousins, and I was only 2 when my little brother was born. The first time we were ever left alone together, I hit him over the head with a whiffle ball bat. I have only ever babysat once: my junior year of high school, for my math teacher's three year old daughter. The little girl made me watch the same episode of Dora the Explorer three times and screamed until I hand fed her an entire bag of Goldfish. She also insisted running around in only a tiara and a pair of fairy wings, which was beyond uncomfortable. Her parents came home to a house covered in cheese powder and their child dancing around naked to "Hakuna Matata." Needless to say, I was not asked back.
Because of all this, I am fairly confident that I don't have a single maternal bone in my body. I mean, look at me-- I don't exactly scream Mary Poppins. I think my sister got whatever maternal instincts our genetics had to offer (trust me, there weren't many to go around), because she is the most amazing mother I have ever seen.
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| ... What happens when I am left alone to feed a child |
As much as I love my nephew, a day with him is exhausting. Being a Mom is a LOT of work, and I honestly don't know how my sister does it. I totally get why those teen mom girls are so effed up-- I think I would be too if I had to trade Friday nights at the mall for formula and dirty diapers. For now, at least, I think I will leave the parenting to my sister, who is truly a rockstar. And so (until I am at LEAST 30) I have earned the position of the cool Aunt. Exactly 20 years from today, I will be 40 (omg.) and taking my nephew out for (what better be) his first beer.
Happy birthday Max, and congratulations to my sister and brother-in-law for surviving their first year of parenthood. Love you all!!!!
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