A plea, all in the name of serving my fellow man
/There are many things that I love in this world. Cookie dough ranks at the top of the list, clearly, as does a crisp diet coke (preferably in a glass cup, with ice, and a straw).
And I love the Husband and our children, of course.
But there is one thing that I absolutely love, and have neglected to pontificate on. Until now.
I love babies. LOVE them.
I love my own babies. I love friends' babies. I love (from afar) strangers' babies. I love to hold them, smell their yummy necks, prop them up on my shoulder, and sit for hours. Content. At one with my chi. In my happy place.
I have even designated myself the church baby holder and make every attempt tosteal hold someone's baby during church meetings.
About five months ago, I heard there was a friend in need. A friend who was overwhelmed, tired, and stressed out.
What did she need help with?
These lovely girls:
Not one, but TWO, delicious, yummy, sweet, twin babes. I asked their mama what I could do to help, and she replied with words that were like music to my ears: "Come hold the babies so I can get something done around the house."
And ever since that fateful day, I have spent Tuesday mornings in the company of two angelic girls. One named Aubrey, and one named Chloe.
And I have to say, Tuesday has quickly become my favorite day of the week.
Unfortunately for me, my friend will be moving this summer. Which will leave a great void in my [soon-to-be-empty] service calendar.
It's only because I'm so giving, you see.
And so I must put this matter of unfulfilled service into your hands: My dear friends, please have a baby (or two) so I can come hold it.
Please? It's really not asking that much. You'll get over the morning sickness, the stretch marks, and the cravings. Plus, I'd be there all through the delivery, ready to snatch that baby and do some holding, I mean, service.
Come on. It'd really make me so very happy.
What's that, you say? Why don't I have a few more of my own? Well, because I really don't like being pregnant, that's why. And I honestly don't think I could go back to midnight feedings, diapers, and nap schedules. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm getting too old.
The matter must be left to you, my friends.
Have me a baby, dammit.
And I love the Husband and our children, of course.
But there is one thing that I absolutely love, and have neglected to pontificate on. Until now.
I love babies. LOVE them.
I love my own babies. I love friends' babies. I love (from afar) strangers' babies. I love to hold them, smell their yummy necks, prop them up on my shoulder, and sit for hours. Content. At one with my chi. In my happy place.
I have even designated myself the church baby holder and make every attempt to
About five months ago, I heard there was a friend in need. A friend who was overwhelmed, tired, and stressed out.
What did she need help with?
These lovely girls:
Not one, but TWO, delicious, yummy, sweet, twin babes. I asked their mama what I could do to help, and she replied with words that were like music to my ears: "Come hold the babies so I can get something done around the house."
And ever since that fateful day, I have spent Tuesday mornings in the company of two angelic girls. One named Aubrey, and one named Chloe.
And I have to say, Tuesday has quickly become my favorite day of the week.
Unfortunately for me, my friend will be moving this summer. Which will leave a great void in my [soon-to-be-empty] service calendar.
It's only because I'm so giving, you see.
And so I must put this matter of unfulfilled service into your hands: My dear friends, please have a baby (or two) so I can come hold it.
Please? It's really not asking that much. You'll get over the morning sickness, the stretch marks, and the cravings. Plus, I'd be there all through the delivery, ready to snatch that baby and do some holding, I mean, service.
Come on. It'd really make me so very happy.
What's that, you say? Why don't I have a few more of my own? Well, because I really don't like being pregnant, that's why. And I honestly don't think I could go back to midnight feedings, diapers, and nap schedules. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm getting too old.
The matter must be left to you, my friends.
Have me a baby, dammit.
