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first comes love...

Some of our young friends got married this weekend, and we survived the festivities alright. "Survive" might be the best verb to describe such an eventful weekend, a weekend that required me leaving the baby FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. Poor little latch-key infant... he had more face-to-face time with a plastic nipple this weekend than with his momma. Dan gave him a bottle while I was at the wedding rehearsal on Saturday, and Judy served up a whopping 4 bottles while we were at the reception on Sunday. By Monday Harvey was practically done with me. When Judy came in the morning Harvey gave me this look like, "Guess what mom? The fun lady? She serves milk now. Seeeee ya."

I almost didn't make it to the wedding reception due to extreme not-feeling-like-it-ness. I went home after the service to feed the baby and feed and walk the dog, and while I was there I started to fantasize about washing off my makeup and taking the baby up to bed. I mean, the reception was a whole 30 minutes away, and the drinks were 4.50 a pop. And by that point they were already married, so why bother sullying more nursing pads?

But I did end up going, and it was nice despite the cash bar and the engorgement. And Harvey did marvelously well with Grandma. A little too marvelously well, if you ask me. Let's just say I'm not going anywhere for a while.


Harvey is such a lucky boy!! When I think about the types of parents whom I babysit for, it makes me feel [insert appropriate adjective later]; they are eager to drop their kids off into my care and run out for a night on the town. I am usually the one who sends a text or gives a quick ring to let them know that the children have fallen asleep, and that they're doing well. The parents don't even call!

Don't get me wrong; I'm honored that these people trust me so much with their children. It will certainly make for a fantastic reference in the next few months while applying for teaching positions. However, I'm thrown into this dilemma of pure judgment; I keep a mental journal of all of their actions and promise myself sincerely that I will NEVER, EVER do those things to my children.

I even had one mother come home so incredibly inebriated that I ended up taking the children to my home for the night; Dave and I couldn't bear to leave them there watching their mother crawl up the stairs. The kids were eager to come, so I know this wasn't an isolated incident.

Again, I am in this dilemma of feeling that I am not a parent, so I don't fully understand the demands of being one. These types of questions swarm my head: Shouldn't parents be allowed to go out once in awhile and have a good time? But shouldn't they call to check up at least, or get home at a reasonable hour? What about a Sunday afternoon date?; that way then can be home to tuck their little ones into bed.

It touches me deeply to see how much you and Dan care for Baby Harvey. It truly makes my heart smile to see the great stress you go through by even leaving him to work 15 feet away. (Smile in a sweet way, not a vindictive way of course!)

You're a fantastic mother, Leah!!! Feel proud!!

I totally agree with the above comment. You guys sound like wonderful parents!!!

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