Yesterday when I was writing the post I kind of felt bad about singling out Brat Baby and I mean she does have the worst name of all my babies, but I just want you to know that Brat Baby is really not a brat 24/7.
As far as brats go, all of my offspring deserve that name at least once during some part of each and everyday, not to mention so does Papa.
OK I do too!
Now Brat Baby was the second of the clan to be born. I was so excited about having a girl like most mommas are when they find out they will have someone to dress up, have a reason to buy those cute little baby dolls for and bake cookies together with.
So on our way home from the hospital with Brat Baby she starts crying, Papa says "Oh she probably just does not like the car ride."
"Maybe your right Papa, because she was doing so well at the hospital (why is that, they are angels at the hospital and then you get them home and it is like they are saying "I was expecting the living conditions to be a little better than this, take me back NOW!), it's just I thought the car ride would be soothing to her like it is for most babies," I tell him.
Baby Boy, who is really a baby Boy at this time is looking at me like "Oh great what have you done now mom."
After getting home I instantly take Brat Baby out of her seat and try to feed and rock her.
Still More Crying
I try gentle bouncing like I would do for Baby Boy when he was little (he loved that).
Still More Crying
I tried just walking around the house with her.
Still More Crying
I tried laying her down.
Now the crying has gotten much louder, I say to Papa "Well at least we know her lungs are fully developed."
I hope this is not a sign of what is to come!
Well let's just say if Brat Baby ever wants to sing opera, then we have figured out over the last decade and a half that her lung capacity is more than capable of handling that kind of straining that it takes to sing opera.
While Brat Baby goes through her teenage years, I would often question whether or not I was being a good enough momma. How could I do so many things wrong in one persons eye. Then she would pop off to me and I would tell Papa "Oh that shit is not my fault, she has her own issues to deal with and they have nothing to do with me."
And would you believe that Papa would tell me that the reason Brat Baby and I fight so much is because we are just alike............."What are you telling me, that I, Momma Of The Year, is like Brat Baby Of The Year. Are you crazy man, we are as different as margarine and butter (by the way always cook with butter, it is so much better)!
Then Papa gives me another one of his stupid "One Day My Intelligence Will Reign" looks.
I'd like to wipe that look off his face.
We fought so much over the years that one day she hugged me and when I wrapped my arms around her I didn't recognize the body that I was hugging.
OK I am sorry I need to go get a tissue and dry up these tears before I short out this lap top.
Sorry, I'm back now.
Oh my, had it really been that long since I have felt the hug of my first daughter, the one that had the cutest curls in her hair that would bounce every time she walked.
I could not help myself, I started crying and squeezing her tighter and could not bring myself to let her go, that is until she screamed out "Would You Get Off of Me!
"Why do you have to be so weird mom?"
OK so that brought me back from Mother Dream Land and into reality.
At that moment of sheer pleasure of feeling my daughters arms wrapped around me and yet hearing her voice of anger to get off her, I could see a faint light in my tunnel of darkness with Brat Baby. And a faint light was all this momma needed to continue her uphill hike with her first daughter.
Papa was right we are a lot alike. Brat Baby likes to cook, garage sale and bargain hunt with me.
Our taste are a lot alike.
Papa of course does know a thing or two about me and he knows that it is not safe to tell me "I told you so."
Brat Baby is the first of all our babies to step up to the plate and help her family with anything, and she now loves and supports me in everything I do as well as she supports everyone else in our little insane asylum we call HOME.
Now don't get me wrong every now and then Brat Baby like to see if she can sing it like the fat lady.
I love you my little Adelina Juana Maria Patti .