I do not have a baby anymore. When he squeals, I run into the room shrieking, “Leave the baby alone!” or “Please get off the baby!” but he’s not a baby. He’s a sweet toddling, hard-headed popcorn eater. He says, “I want a hug,” and then he takes one.

Ian is not a baby anymore, and that must be why I did the craziest thing. The other day at the mall, I saw the clumsiest parents. They had a tiny baby and held her like a sock of glass. She was screaming and new. They were all new, just as we were three babies ago.

I had just walked in the door. I heard the baby, and as if caught in a current, unknowing as driftwood and as perky as a milk-gland, I walked toward the family. I became aware of my heart as my arms lifted. Was I going to be the stranger lady who came to sooth this crying child?! Absolutely Not. I caught myself in a moment of crazy, rolled my eyes, and walked away pretending that I forgot something in the store behind me. 

Mothers are crazy people. We are ruined through and through. I hope to goodness I don’t have to birth another baby, but alas – gangly arms and pink scream-faces are magnetizing. 

Hi. My name is Amber. I’ve had three babies. Now, they run around and get all nasty in no time flat. They run away from me into very dangerous places.

Can I please hold your baby?