I have a weird relationship with kids.
On the one hand, I absolutely love them. I’m the girl making googly eyes at your baby in the grocery store checkout. I am the one who will hog your newborn when I get the chance to meet her, and will beg you not to make me give her back. Heck, I volunteer rocking babies in the Special Care Nursery just so I can hold sweet, adorable, sleepy teeny-tinies once a week (I call myself a semi-professional baby rocker). And not just babies, kids crack me up. They say the funniest things, they have the craziest theories on the way the world works, and their sweetness can absolutely melt my heart. I spent one summer as a camp counselor to a bunch of eight year olds and loved almost every minute of it (almost because the world’s worst sound is puke from a top bunk to the floor at 4 a.m., and I learned this the hard way).
On the other hand, I am terrified of almost everything related to childbirth. Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re like, uh, Ernie Bufflo? Everyone is terrified of childbirth. Yes, I’m aware of that. I’m telling you that I’m even more insanely terrified than most people you’ve met. Terrified and squeamish, which I know is super strange from a girl who just loves to gross people out with medical anecdotes at the dinner table. A girl whose entire family is in the medical profession. A girl whose mother used to teach Lamaze and wrote a master’s thesis on special anti-nausea acupressure bracelets for pregnant ladies. That’s me! Continue reading “bufflo and babies”