Granny Lust
I love babies. I love my babies, I love your babies, I love all babies.
My baby boys were so, so pretty. They smelled sweet (except when they didn’t). They were happy (except when they weren’t). They were round and squishy and exquisitely cuddly.
I’ve always loved listening to baby talk (even when I don’t understand it). I love the slurpy sounds babies make when they nurse or take a bottle. I love hearing tiny baby snores. I love petting tiny baby curls. I love smooching tiny baby toes. In my world, zrbrting a baby’s belly is a spiritual experience.
I’m a baby junkie.
My baby just turned 21. I have no more babies to baby. Do you see my problem?
Two of my siblings have nine grandkids between them. Those kids are, each and every one, exceptional little humans. The oldest is nine and the youngest will soon be a year old. For a while I was spending time with some of them on a regular basis, but life changed and now I don’t get to see any of them as often as I want to.
My family and friends share pictures of their babies and grandbabies, and keep everybody posted about expectations of more to come.
Just color me green with envy. I want my own grandkids! I want little bitty copies of their daddies, just like I got two little bitty copies of their daddy.
That said, I’m grateful Chewie and Dobby aren’t yet fathers.
Please let me explain.
My boys (men!) are in their early 20s. One of them has maybe (but not certainly) completed his education; the other one has at least a year to go. Neither of them is in a relationship; they haven’t really begun to live. It’s best if they put off parenthood until they can pay for their own cell phones and buy their own medical insurance, wouldn’t you agree?
In the meantime, what am I supposed to do?
I’ll continue to live and die by Facebook and Instagram photos. I’ll depend on phone calls from Chatty McChatterbox and her big sister. I’ll get hugs and kisses and cuddles when opportunities arise.
And I’ll stare at other people’s babies. Please don’t be creeped out if I stare at your baby. I’m harmless wannabe grandma, yearning for grandkids of my own.
Nervous Knots 