Baby lady.

As we speak, I am curled up in a soft chair, baby M swaddled and curled up in the lap of my crossed legs. Hot tea to my right, sliced apples to the left, drawing pad and pens to the far right. Every now and then she coos or shudders or squirms to remind me that she is there. I drag a few fingers over her perfect forehead and keep typing, in love with this little tiny thing. Wishing she was mine. After finishing this I am going to curl up on my bed with homegirl and read my lady Rabbi's latest published edition of the magazine she writes for: G.Love. This day is shaping up to be above and beyond.

Someday I am going to have a baby. Word on the street is that they are a lot of work, but I still want a whole rat pack. This is no secret. Anyone and their dog who have known me for five minutes know this. My friend Kelly just had a baby bird about three weeks ago, Madeline, or baby M as I call her, and she is a beauty. She is sleeping in my lap with her eyelids flickering, cheeks rose red, wearing a sleeper made of the softest organic cotton money can buy. I love her and she isn't even remotely blood related. I just love her. Kelly called this afternoon wondering if she could leave baby M for a few hours while she finished the last of her Christmas shopping. "Uhhhhhhhh yes, please?!?!?". She doesn't have to ask. Ever.

Madi and I had a little teeny baby photo shoot just after she drained an entire bottle in my arms. Homegirl was a pretty good sport considering all the outfit changes, nakedness, props, fur stoles, fabric, movement and lighting adjustments. Poor kid. I already feel bad for my own children and the countless shoots they will have to endure as I blow through roll after roll documenting their precious antics. Until my film is developed, here is a shabby sampling of how much I adore babies, and this baby in particular.

I don't even have words. I think I got the retardo, inhumane baby gene from Aunty Marj. It is as good a reason as any to go to church, that is for certain. Baby mecca over there in the country.

Now a word of wisdom from a wise lady. This is Grandma's best form of birth control for her granddaughters:

Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.
Babies turn into people.

Thanks Helen, Helen, Helen. Thanks to this little gem, I can't help but letting a teeny tiny "I want one" escape. No, I want lots of them. On another note of thanksgiving, there are people like Kelly in my world who are more than willing to dump their baby birds off chez moi and this tends to tide me over for a while. I hope I can last until I meet a sugar daddy or am on a salary at the very least. Sorry this post is so pointed, I just can't get enough apparently.

Best, Mama Madge.