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Posted by: Kim_Hamilton on 03/03/2011 06:32 PM Updated by: Kim_Hamilton on 03/03/2011 06:33 PM
Expires: 01/01/2016 12:00 AM
:

"About Babies"~A Humor Column by The Copper Curmudgeon

Copperopolis, CA....AThe bond between mother and child is said to be one of the strongest of human emotions. Being a human baby born into the world we are completely helpless and dependent on the mother or caregiver. Then there is the other parent . . . the dad .... . . this position requires the father to be the head of the family and in primal times the hunter, provider. As society has developed these two positions have changed . . . sometimes they are blended or merged to the point that the defined positions can reverse. Remember this point . . .



When I was a kid the two positions were well defined. Moms stayed home or had part time jobs and dad was the bread winner who came home looking for his martini and expecting dinner to be ready in the oven. The fifties and then the sixties were that era when things started to change . . .

The joke was that men needed to “get in touch” with their feminine side and the little Mrs. was becoming more often than not a full time worker so some of the household duties were going to the dad.

After my wife and I were married . . . we started having babies . . . now you have to understand my wife is kid crazy so we had six babies and while doing foster care in our home we adopted two more.

Now for some reason the older ones did not see what their parents did to themselves . . . so they found mates, got married and are now making more babies . . . lots of them . . . like we are up to nine grandkids and another due in the next few weeks . . . and our younger babies haven’t even started this process . . .

To me babies are useless . . . even though we all start out that way this period of time is for the moms . . . no really I’m pretty sure anyway because all you get with a new baby is sleep deprivation and diapers full of poop and pee . . . how nice. Even new puppies can be left alone but not babies.

While we were doing foster care in 1999 . . . we got a phone call from our foster care placement worker on December 31st around 7pm. Silly me I answered the phone. “Hey there” he said, “you have room for another kid don’t you?” I quickly told him no we have our four kids plus four foster kids so we are maxed out!!!

Well apparently on New Years Eve when everyone was in a panic over the Y2K virus and the fact that the world was going to end at midnight in the year 2000 because all the computers were going to shutdown and throw us back into the stone age . . . he could make an exception to our license for the number of kids we had in our home even though we were only licensed for four foster kids . . .

Wonderful news . . . however here was the dilemma . . . either I could stay home with eight kids which I preferred not to do or I could jump in my Chevy Blazer with a pink child seat and head for County Hospital in Martinez and pick-up this newborn baby.

I chose the latter not that it sounded like a good idea but it was the least of the duties . . . or so I thought.

I arrived at the hospital which was very quiet since most reasonable people were out partying like it was almost the year 2000. Even security was not at the front desk so I took the elevator up to maternity carrying my pink car seat.

I came to the front window where you check in and saw my reflection in the window and thought this is not going to be good . . . the nurse in reception has this look on her face like I’m Charlie Manson. And in her defense . . . picture this in your mind.

It’s New Years Eve . . . nine o’clock at night and a very large imposing man with a pink child seat and a black Raiders Defense sweatshirt . . . you know the one that has the screaming skull on it . . . says, “I’m here from Foster Care to pick up the baby.”

Not sure where they came from or where they had been but in two minutes there were four security guards and a deputy sheriff behind me . . .

After showing them my ID and Foster parent card they let me off the wallI was being held against. A couple of apologies and a handshake and they let me into the maternity ward to pick-up the baby.

The nurse brings the baby in and I sign the paperwork to accept guardianship of the baby. She is placed in my pink car seat . . . and the comment is made by the head nurse . . . “you know you have to be a special guy because my husband would not be caught dead with a pink car seat . . .”

Oh and it gets better . . . they can’t find the floor pediatrician on duty to sign out the baby. They thought they knew where the doctor was but there was no answer for that phone number. So here I am baby in car seat . . . and the baby starts to cry . . . the solution . . . the nurse looks at me and says you signed the paperwork so the kid is yours and she needs a diaper change or a bottle but now that you have accepted the baby it’s on you dude . . .

Crap . . . and I mean real smelly green new baby crap, all down her leg, all over the blanket and all over my pink car seat. The nurse smiles hands me a box of wet wipes and a new pamper. I get the kid cleaned up and she is still crying so next comes the bottle and a rocking chair. It’s not long before the bottle is empty and the baby is snuggled against my neck asleep.

A couple hours later the doctor is located in another building and comes by to sign the release papers . . . as I am packing up baby to leave, the head nurse says too bad your leaving we have a special party planned at midnight . . . so I had to ask . . . what do you do at midnight around here? And she says, “oh sugar we get real wild . . . we have popsicles!!!

I entered the new year of 2000 driving down Highway 4 in West Pittsburg heading back to our house in Antioch . . . alone on the freeway because everyone else was at a party but that was what caregivers do for helpless babies.

So my son and his wife had a new boy last Monday and we have had the older two Grandkids staying with us the last few days. And I am comfortable with the role reversal of most male/female positions in our house . . . but somehow I have got to get my three year old Granddaughter to quit calling me Gramma . . . it’s just too much for the male ego . . .

I know . . . just sit here and be quiet . . .


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