Baby book meltdown

I was an emotional wreck tonight reading a book written to teach babies about body parts. Hand, (turn page) fingers,(turn page) belly, (turn page) leg, etc. Surprisingly, it was never chosen as a selection for Oprah Winfrey’s Book Club. There is no storyline or life lesson. It also wasn’t completely made up by James Frey.

The baby model must have been cast by a blind editor. This kid is ugly. You are lying if you say, “All babies are cute.” Of course, my children were gorgeous. However, this baby looks like the product of a cousin/cousin marriage. Still, it brought me to tears. I read this book to each of my three children. They nestled in my lap, the scent of baby shampoo inches from my nose as they tried to mimic each word. I put that book and a few dozen others in storage. I had no choice. My daughter’s closet was cluttered with books she has outgrown.
I need to make room for stories about princesses with low self-esteem.


I don’t think I will ever read these books again. After several miscarriages it is unlikely I will ever populate the earth again. My uterus is all“Bitch, I am tired. You need another baby like Leanna Rimes needs another dental crown.” So, I am getting out of the baby making business. It’s a difficult pill to swallow. I miss holding my babies. I actually felt like there was another spirit I was destined to meet.

It’s so cliche, but they grew up too fast. It seems like yesterday I was wearing a scarf on my head and cradling my first born in my arms. Remember that fashion statement in 2000? Aunt Jemima scarfs were flying off the shelves at the Gap. I had one in every color. (Photo to come)

As if the baby books weren’t enough to break my heart, I came across this one:


Sure, the mother is bat shit crazy, using a ladder to sneak into her son’s house at night and crawling on the floor to his bed. I still bawl whenever I read this: “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I am living, my baby you’ll be.” I kept this book on the shelf. It was not so much for my children, but for me.

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