Why I hate babies...

Sometimes... I hate babies.  Not genuinely, of course, cause I love babies (especially mine), but in an "oh my god what is wrong with you" sort of way!  

I know that babies have tiny, undeveloped brains, and therefore their actions cannot be controlled, and they don't really know what they're doing, and blah, blah, blah.  I call bullshit.  Babies know what they're doing... oh they know exactly what they're doing!!!

Let's talk about the baby I know best.  I love Ella... I really do!  But my heavens, sometimes... arrrrrgh!!

Ella wakes up in the morning and she's all happy, and smiley, and coo-y!  We get ready for the morning, with hugs and kisses, and butterflies and rainbows.  And then I have to put her coat on.  Do you think that Ella would be all rational, and think "hey, I have to put my coat on now because it's -6000 and I don't want to freeze my adorable little belly button off"?  Nope!! That baby will throw herself backwards in my arms, wave her arms around like she's trying to fly away, and squawk like a parrot being eaten alive.  You would swear I was putting her in a coat of hot lava.  She's damn lucky I haven't dropped her on the floor during one of these dramatic episodes she flails around so much!  Damn babies...

Later, we're playing in the living room and Ella is all giggles and laughs on her playmat.  She's waving toys around and having a grand old time.   And then, for a split second, I step out of her line of vision. Do you think that Ella would be all rational, and think "hey, mom just had to walk away for a few seconds, I'm sure she'll be right back!"?  Nope!!  That baby will immediately start screaming and crying and kicking her feet and, if I don't step back into her line of vision quickly enough, knock herself over on the playmat, which sets off another round of screeching.  Even Gracie said to her "geez Ella, I said I'd be right back!"  Ella, I only had to go in the kitchen to stir your supper, I'm still right here!  Damn babies...

Next, Ella has had a crap the size of Gracie's head and we're in her room changing her bum.  Ella doesn't mind her bum being changed, so she's all happy and giddy, and having a nice laugh at our peek-a-boo games and our raspberry kisses.  And then it's time to put a clean diaper back on her bum.  Do you think Ella would be all rational, and think "hey!  A clean diaper, that will feel so nice on my bum.  Not only that, but when I need to pee, it wont be all over the change table or up my own back!"?  Nope!!  That baby will grab onto both of her ankles in a sort of death grip, pull her knees into her chest or put her feet in her mouth, and rock back and forth, all the while giggling cause she thinks it's funny!  It was quite humorous, the first time.  But now, I have to wrestle her hand off of one foot (with the hopes of getting that side of the diaper fastened), and just as I think I've got it, she lets go of the other foot, grabs the foot I just had with both of her hands, and before I have a chance to grab the foot she let go of, she grabs it again!  And the game starts over.  Damn babies...

It's 6:15 a.m.  Ella is sound asleep.  I have to get up and get ready for work.  I get dressed, pack the lunches up, stuff the diaper bag, carry them out to the car, come back and wake up Gracie, get her dressed, and since it's 6:55 now, go to get Ella.  There she is so sweet and serene,  sound asleep in her crib.  Now it's Friday night, and do you think Ella would be all rational and think "hey! Tomorrow is Saturday and mom gets to sleep in.  I think I'll sleep till my usual time, or maybe even later!"?  Nope!  That baby, sure as shit, will be wide awake and rearing to go at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.  Damn babies...

And of course, there's the thing I've been complaining about for a couple of months now with Ella.  It's snack time in the Ford household.  Or, perhaps, it's time to get supper ready.  Either way, Ella is in her exersaucer, surrounded by Cheerios!  She's hungry, of course, so she picks up those cheerios in her teeny tiny little fingers.  Do you think she would be all rational and think, "Hey, I'm hungry!  And look, here are some Cheerios!  I know how to pick them up, so I think I'll put them into my mouth, where I will receive sustenance and be happy!"?  Nope!  That freaking child will fill her hands with Cheerios and then scream at me until I fill her mouth with them.  When I try to guide her hand to her own mouth to show her how it works, that baby will throw herself backwards in that exersaucer, wave her arms around like she is trying to fly and squawk louder than a parrot being eaten alive.  Yes, the exact same "coat tantrum."  She will also throw all of the Cheerios she has in her hands onto the floor, and then for good measure, she will also dramatically sweep her arms across the Cheerios remaining on the exersaucer and knock those to the floor too.  She will cry, and cry, and cry, until I put more Cheerios in her mouth.  Because heaven forbid this baby be like every single other baby in the world and put things in her mouth.  No toys, no soothers, and certainly not food.  So instead, I will be like a trained puppet, inserting Cheerios or wheaty puffs whenever she opens her mouth for more, or else deal with the shrieking, squawking baby.  Damn babies...

Nothing but fingers shall enter this mouth,
unless it is being fed to me by my slave mother.

Okay, I guess with a face like this...
I can't help but love her! :)