Crazy Baby Lady

I have become that crazy lady who grins like a maniac at pregnant strangers. I make faces at babies in the grocery store and squat down to talk to cute toddlers. I literally cannot pass a child without smiling at them and making big googly eyes. In short, I have become my mother.

I have distinct memories of being in the checkout line with my mom when there was a baby in front of us. Every time, she’d make these exaggerated, animated faces like she was Jim Carrey or something. Sometimes she’d throw in some high-pitched “peek-a-boo” for good measure.

As a surly teen who wanted nothing more than to disappear into the linoleum floor, I was mortified. What was WRONG with this woman?!

Fast-forward a couple decades and I’m thinking, “How psyched were the moms of those babies?” They were probably at the end of their rope after a long day of colic and spit-up, and were only at the grocery store in the first place because they were down to their last diaper. They must have been THRILLED that a kind stranger was entertaining their child so they could juggle their wallet and coupons and keys and then get the heck out of there. I know I would be.

In line to vote yesterday, I was behind a woman with a small baby in a sling. This mom was bouncing and swaying and jiggling so much I’m surprised she could even work the voting machine. Every time she’d stop, a tiny cry of protest would echo throughout the room. It was all I could do not to offer to hold the baby for her. But she might have been alarmed to see a complete stranger sniffing her baby’s head.

I can’t help it! You’d think I’d have my fill of babies, having spent nearly every waking hour (and much of the sleeping ones) with my own 2. But I’m drawn to tiny, sparsely-coiffed people in footy pajamas like the cast of “Jersey Shore” to a flashbulb.

I’ve been peed on, pooped on, puked on by other people’s babies. And I don’t care. I’ve spent far too much of my few years of motherhood worrying about what atrocities my babies might inflict on other people. I’m giving those moms a break. Don’t worry about it—I’ve lived through all this and worse. Your little angel can do no wrong in my eyes. And yes, I WILL look at all 207 pictures of her you have on your iPhone.

In fact, I am personally affronted whenever I see someone walk by a baby without a glance. Come ON, people! It’s a BABY! The freaking MIRACLE OF LIFE. At least be polite and feign some interest for 2 seconds, OK?

Unless you’re a teenager with your mom at the grocery store. Then, by all means, ignore the baby. But mark my words—in a couple decades, you’ll change your tune.

LINK O' THE WEEK: Speaking of crazy, apparently there's a new celeb parenting trend that "eschews the conventions of American infancy from baby strollers, high chairs and battery-operated toys to excessive praise, forced sharing, and even lullabies." Thoughts??

PIC O' THE WEEK: The most ill-conceived play area ever -- behold, the Playground of Death.