eggs and other babies

Avery used to be an egg. I'm not talking ovum egg, I'm talking newborn egg. You know when the baby is just sleeping, eating, pooping and generally staring off in to space the rest of the time? Yeah, that lasted about 2 months with Avy and then she discovered the world around her and has been on the go since.

When Avery was 6 months old, I finally decided (ie: was told by husband that I had turned into a hermit and should probably make an attempt at leaving the house with the baby) to join a mom and baby group. Many of the babies there were Avery's age or a bit older, and none of them were sitting up or interacting much, not the way Avery was anyway. In fact, they all pretty much spent the entire group meeting drooling or snoozing away in their car seats. At 6 months, Avery had outgrown the infant car seat and had moved on up to the next model, which meant no more carrying her around in the car seat, I either carried her in my arms or used a stroller. Since it was winter and said stroller was a piece of crap and impossible to maneuver through the snow, I carried her.

After the group ended, we all stayed in touch and started going for weekly walks followed by coffee. Avery would last about 20 minutes in the stroller and then get bored, and then start crying. I would have to spend the rest of the walk with her in a baby carrier on me, pushing the stroller with one hand while each vertebra in my spine slowly collapsed onto the next. By the time we got to the cafe, I was sweaty and temporarily crippled. I would then spend the hour in the cafe trying to keep Avery entertained as she squirmed around on my lap. Lets just say I didn't really get any "adult conversation" in.

Fast forward to today. For the first time in weeks, I met another mum in this cafe today. Her baby is 10 days younger than Avery and I figured she would be just as much of a spaz, according to how much this mum complained about her over-active baby. I was wrong. This kid is not crawling yet and was more than happy to sit like a good little egg in the stroller while I sweated and huffed and chased after my little darling. I am not doing coffee anymore.

The problem is that none of the mothers I have met since birthing my hyper little daughter have a baby as active as mine, and none of them are interested in doing a "playdate" at someones baby-proofed house, rather than a coffee shop.

I'm not jealous. Well, okay maybe a little. I do wish I had a baby that slept more than 2 hour stretches at night and who would nap more than an hour a day. I don't wish for an egg though. When I see how social and happy Avery is, how she interacts with other people and babies, points at her toes when I ask her where they are and wraps her arms around my neck to give me a hug, I feel so lucky.

And then today I discovered Sesame Street. For a full hour I (somewhat guiltily) watched as Avery became mesmerized by Elmo. She laughed out loud several times and clapped her hands and wiggled around when music came on. I was able to go to the bathroom, wash my face and apply make-up without having to entertain her the whole time. It was bliss.

Thank you PBS.