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Adventures in Maternal Ineptness #1: Pajamas, Honey and Other Dangerous Things

As I’m getting older, I’m beginning to realize that there is a possibility that I will be just an AWFUL parent. I have a young nephew, which in itself makes me a maternal failure since I’m the oldest of 4 girls by a huge margin (I’m 6 years older than my next oldest sister). So I have failed miserably as the eldest baby maker in the family. I remember when my sister felt the baby kick for the first time, all of my aunts, sisters and cousins cooed as they rubbed my sister’s tummy, getting all teary-eyed as they felt the miracle of life inside her. I, however, lingered back; disgusted look on my face, beer in my hand as if I was bearing witness to some kind of bodily invasion. I do love my nephew with all my heart though, and was even in the room for his birth; which I must admit was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life. However, much like the amazement that comes with watching someone drive a long nail up their nose at a freak show, it is definitely more of a spectator sport. But I digress…
I don’t want you to get the impression I don’t like kids. I do. I think kids are adorable….in pictures….I just don’t understand all of the stuff you have to do to keep them alive. There are so many rules that you’re just suppose to know, and I can’t keep track of them all. For example, did you know you can’t feed kids honey??? Apparently it can give them botulism. And you’re just suppose to know that. Or that it’s required by law for children’s pajamas to be flame retardant. BY LAW. That means there are so many children spontaneously combusting they have to outfit them like little baby Evel Knievels. Needless to say, finding this out made my trip to Kids R Us very stressful. It seems like everyday in the life of a baby is like a trip through the Temple of Doom and it’s a lot of pressure for the people that care for them to keep them out of harm’s way. So now, whenever I spend time with my nephew, I just look at him like some ticking time bomb, just waiting to be killed, maimed or given the Black Death. And what am I suppose to do the day that he finally spontaneously combusts?
Well, not throw honey on him, that’s for sure…