Maternal? Hmmmm. No.
I thought spending two weeks with my little nephew, Ethan, would make me clucky (nope, that's not a 'throw-in' pun to reflect last week's theme…i'm not that consistent …).
While the little fellow is cute (and at 11 weeks old - he should be) I don't really feel the need to get cracking and procreate.
There might have been a few moments in the past few weeks that led me to this conclusion.
Incident number 1: My sister, Katie and her partner took me to their friend's BBQ. Katie ducked off to another room to breastfeed and as the conversation of the other attendees was all about babies, planning for babies, babies, babies, babies - I snuck off to pretend to help Katie.
Being a busy new mum, Katie currently isn't one to deny any offered help, pretend or otherwise. She passed Ethan to me to burp him.
I always get the best jobs.
Never able to concentrate on one thing at a time, I held a cup of iced tea in my hand while I used the other hand to burp Ethan.
The little guy spewed right into my cup.
His precision was impeccable.
Some would burn the cup. Not I. I just rinsed it with cold water and started again. It's only baby spew, right?
Incident number 2: This is when I questioned my priorities and whether I am indeed ready to breed.
I was holding Ethan and really felt like a piece of caramel slice I had baked earlier.
"Katie, will you hold Ethan while I eat?" I asked.
"I know! Just put him in the baby carrier (a thingie-ma-jig where you slide the baby in so he or she can rest against your chest while you complete chores)," Katie responded, excited she was going to give this carrier-thing a try.
So we started trying to put the carrier on me.
Ethan started balling.
Katie cracked up laughing at how unco we were (well…are) and ten minutes later I was still void of caramel slice!
Feeling a bit sorry for Ethan by this point I said reluctantly: "I can just wait and have slice later, it's fine."
It was not really fine, but at least it showed I cared more for Ethan than my stomach and my interest in junk food.
My moment of pretend selflessness seemed to pay off.
Katie took Ethan and consoled him and I crept away unsubtly.
I then enjoyed two pieces of caramel slice.
Incident number 3: Katie and I turned our hand to craft.
Do you know those lovely paintings or clay pictures that capture the "oh they're so tiny!" hands and feet of new borns?
I think they're purchased on the black-market. Here's why:
After a first and second attempt where Ethan tried to eat the plaster, Katie and I decided we would tempt fate and give it a third go.
As Ethan was fast asleep, it was my duty to rock the stroller to keep him that way. I imagined we were about to incorporate some arts and crafts into his wonderfully bliss baby dream.
As soon as we picked him up from the stroller he woke up, knew we were up to something and promptly started crying and resisting.
Young Ethan is wise…just like his father.
We managed two messy footprints, and two handprints…one of which looked like a dog paw.
Then he spewed in it.
"What a keepsake," I said to Katie.
During the past week I've learnt tips of how to care for a baby and I've enjoyed cuddling Ethan and seeing the relief in Katie's eyes when she passes the baby to me so she can shower.
Katie's become quite sneaky though.
"I'll just leave the baby here," she says calmly and strategically places Ethan in his rocker at my feet while I'm doing some work on my lap top.
Incidental babysitting I call this…Although I now haven't seen Katie for days.
I don't mind though, the little guy is extremely cute and huggable.
I just don't want one of my own…just yet.
Although I'm already the best auntie that ever lived.
Yes you heard Olivia and Shelly.
Back off.
-Ends-
While the little fellow is cute (and at 11 weeks old - he should be) I don't really feel the need to get cracking and procreate.
There might have been a few moments in the past few weeks that led me to this conclusion.
Incident number 1: My sister, Katie and her partner took me to their friend's BBQ. Katie ducked off to another room to breastfeed and as the conversation of the other attendees was all about babies, planning for babies, babies, babies, babies - I snuck off to pretend to help Katie.
Being a busy new mum, Katie currently isn't one to deny any offered help, pretend or otherwise. She passed Ethan to me to burp him.
I always get the best jobs.
Never able to concentrate on one thing at a time, I held a cup of iced tea in my hand while I used the other hand to burp Ethan.
The little guy spewed right into my cup.
His precision was impeccable.
Some would burn the cup. Not I. I just rinsed it with cold water and started again. It's only baby spew, right?
Incident number 2: This is when I questioned my priorities and whether I am indeed ready to breed.
I was holding Ethan and really felt like a piece of caramel slice I had baked earlier.
"Katie, will you hold Ethan while I eat?" I asked.
"I know! Just put him in the baby carrier (a thingie-ma-jig where you slide the baby in so he or she can rest against your chest while you complete chores)," Katie responded, excited she was going to give this carrier-thing a try.
So we started trying to put the carrier on me.
Ethan started balling.
Katie cracked up laughing at how unco we were (well…are) and ten minutes later I was still void of caramel slice!
Feeling a bit sorry for Ethan by this point I said reluctantly: "I can just wait and have slice later, it's fine."
It was not really fine, but at least it showed I cared more for Ethan than my stomach and my interest in junk food.
My moment of pretend selflessness seemed to pay off.
Katie took Ethan and consoled him and I crept away unsubtly.
I then enjoyed two pieces of caramel slice.
Incident number 3: Katie and I turned our hand to craft.
Do you know those lovely paintings or clay pictures that capture the "oh they're so tiny!" hands and feet of new borns?
I think they're purchased on the black-market. Here's why:
After a first and second attempt where Ethan tried to eat the plaster, Katie and I decided we would tempt fate and give it a third go.
As Ethan was fast asleep, it was my duty to rock the stroller to keep him that way. I imagined we were about to incorporate some arts and crafts into his wonderfully bliss baby dream.
As soon as we picked him up from the stroller he woke up, knew we were up to something and promptly started crying and resisting.
Young Ethan is wise…just like his father.
We managed two messy footprints, and two handprints…one of which looked like a dog paw.
Then he spewed in it.
"What a keepsake," I said to Katie.
During the past week I've learnt tips of how to care for a baby and I've enjoyed cuddling Ethan and seeing the relief in Katie's eyes when she passes the baby to me so she can shower.
Katie's become quite sneaky though.
"I'll just leave the baby here," she says calmly and strategically places Ethan in his rocker at my feet while I'm doing some work on my lap top.
Incidental babysitting I call this…Although I now haven't seen Katie for days.
I don't mind though, the little guy is extremely cute and huggable.
I just don't want one of my own…just yet.
Although I'm already the best auntie that ever lived.
Yes you heard Olivia and Shelly.
Back off.
-Ends-
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