Babies

When you are from a family as large as mine there are always babies; babies in arms, babies in strollers, babies in car seats, or babies in utero. Someone has a baby, is expecting a baby, or wants to be pregnant.

Being around the babies brings back memories of me as a young mother at our family reunions. I was so proud to show off my beautiful daughters to the gathering of relatives, but traveling with children, staying in a hotel room or in a grandparent’s guest room was never easy – especially on the kids. My perfect daughters turned into perfect monsters on these trips. A baby accustomed to sleeping through the night would awake crying every few hours which resulted in a cranky disposition taking the place of her normally sunny personality. The perfect child I so wanted to parade in front of my family now replaced by a female version of Damien from The Omen. I was usually on my own on these trips (my husband saving his vacation time for a “real” vacation) and tired and cranky myself from the baby waking every hour, I could only offer pitiful protests and lame excuses. “She’s not like this at home.”

Thankfully, everyone at the reunion had been in my shoes at one time. Thankfully, everyone at the reunion loved me and my children in spite of our surly behavior. “Give me the baby, I’ll rock her while you go catch up with your cousins,” or “So what if your four-year old has made the hotel elevator her personal carnival ride.” Then the family lore would begin. “Remember when,” would be followed with tales of other relative’s children, about the time my cousins put red dye in the hotel fountain, or the time the so-in-so boys shot toothpick darts through drinking straws in a nice restaurant. And on it would go, everyone relating a horror story about a cousin, a niece, or a nephew that would make my wild children look like the perfect angels they were (at home in their own surroundings).

This reunion weekend it is my cousin Leigh’s turn to experience the stress and joy of having two small children at a far from childproofed grandparent’s house. She made a 600 mile trip with a baby and a three-year old (her husband saving his vacation time for a “real” vacation). The kids are tired and cranky, they want to touch, move, or break every fragile item in their reach, they need a nap, but can’t sleep in unfamiliar rooms, and the meals we are serving are not exactly child-friendly. But it will be okay. Someone, an aunt or a cousin, will rock the baby until she falls asleep and I will tell Leigh, “Remember the time…”