A confession of sorts

My friend recently wrote a blog about confessions. She aired some of her secrets and I found it to be a very entertaining read. I thought I might follow suit with some confessions of my own. I ran them by said friend and she informed me that confessing to having a lack of hair skill and posting the evidence was weak. I had to dig deeper. I had to find something truly hideous to confess and after much deliberation I think I have found it. I may have broached the topic before but here I am ready to be severely  honest with you. I am sure you will all hate me when this is over. I am hoping that last blog on judging has prepped you.

I don't like your baby. Whew! There, I said it. Can we still be friends? Its nothing personal about your baby. I have an equal uneasiness around children in general. I find it easier to deal with the ones who are verbal. I can even handle your emotional out of control toddler better than I can deal with your baby. Let me explain.

Sometimes your baby smells funny. It could be poop, or formula, or whatever they ate. But its weird and I cannot deal. Often your baby is damp and or sticky. Being a recovering germaphobe, this causes me great panic. What is this substance? Please get it off of me. NOW.

Now I know what you are thinking. Don't you have 4 children? How stupid is it that you don't like babies yet you continue to have them? Did you fall and hit your head?

I never promised you that any of this was logical. It really makes no sense. You see, my baby smells like heaven and cake all rolled into one. I change my baby's outfit every time it is blemished. There shall be no remnants of meals, boogies, spit and or any other gross residue on my baby.

Maybe calling myself a "recovering" germaphobe was a bit of wishful thinking.

I go to great lengths and do much laundry to keep my little one spic and span. Now, is this practical? Well, no. Is it even necessary? Again, no. Should I see a therapist?......are you paying?

I get that its weird and horrible and I am an awful loathsome baby hater. I get it. Its really unflattering and I have sooooo many friends with babies right now. And they each think this blog is about them. And its not. Its about my inability to be the baby lover that all women are expected to be. Would this be easier to take if I was a dude? No one really expects them to be all mushy over babies. I just gotta be me.....and not hold the baby.

 I get this intense frantic feeling when someone walks into a room with a baby. Will I have to hold the baby? What if the baby smells? What if it cries? How long do I have to hold the baby? I wish it was like Thanksgiving and someone passed me the green bean casserole. Just a quick "no thank you" and no one batted an eye.

And here is the kicker. I assume you feel the same way about MY baby. I really do, which is partly why I go to some much trouble to keep my baby from being offensive. If you know me in real life I would like you to think about something. Go back in your memory and try to recall one instance where I have ever asked you to hold my baby. Right. It has never happened. I assume you are just as anxious and uncomfortable with my baby as I am with yours. If I don't like holding them why should you? So I never ask. You are welcome.

Then I went to the cloth diaper store and watched them fight over holding babies like they were made of diamonds. It was then that it hit me. No one on the planet seems to have this problem with babies but me. It is even more nonexistent among mothers. Great, I am a monster and I am the only one. Fan-frickin-tastic. My neighbor says she loves them too. Snot, poop, drool and all. I am mesmerized.

Now there are always exceptions to every rule. If I ever said your baby was cute....well I meant it. I will not say your baby is cute or adorable if I don't really think so. I have this thing about not lying. I will hold a baby if I have to. If I like you I will slap a smile on my face and take that little drool bucket while you go to the bathroom. But I won't enjoy it. And your baby won't enjoy it either because they can tell I am trying to determine how much life is left in that diaper and if and when they are most likely to throw up on me. They can see right through me.

So hate me if you must. I won't hold it against you. Maybe the Lord will one day give me a heart for babies. Maybe I will one day work in the church nursery and open my own daycare center. Maybe I will start baby sitting and writing books on the wonder that is baby spit. And maybe I will be six feet tall, and a size 2, and like blue cheese, and wear crocs................