Just Call Me Auntie

by Susan Sey

My summer has been frantic.

All summers are frantic, I know. They're billed as the height of relaxation--all hammocks & cool lemonades, campfires & fishing--and I seem to remember that experience from when I was a kid. But now that I'm a mom, I'm manufacturing summer rather than experiencing it & it's a hell of a lot busier.

This summer, for example, one of my kids got the theatre bug so next thing I know we're committed to rehearsals from 6-9 p.m. four nights a week.

And then there was Summer Academy for one kid. (It's an extension of the school's Gifted & Talented program, so how can a decent parent say no?) Summer Academy had us at the bus stop at 7:15 a.m. for all of June. So our day started at 6 & wrapped up at 10.

Then there was RWA's national conference backing up to the Fourth of July weekend, and then there were houseguests. Lots and lots of houseguests. Beloved relatives, yes, but...right there in the house.

Then my sister had a baby. And whenever one of my sisters has a baby, I load up the kids in the big green van & we drive twelve hours home to Michigan to greet the new cousin. (It happened twice last year, & once this year. I have a lot of sisters.)

As you might imagine, I was exhausted by the time I rolled into Detroit. Really, honestly, to-the-bone exhausted.

Then I met Lucy Abigail. (This isn't her, btw. Out of respect for my sister's privacy I found a random cute baby on the internets for your viewing pleasure.) But still, there she was. Lucy. All 6 lbs, 10 oz of fresh-out-of-the-oven miracle & I thought, "Why don't I drive home more often?"

Seriously. That is the severity of my weakness for babies. I hadn't slept more than five hours at a pop for a month, I'd left house guests behind & would come home to another set (once more beloved relatives but still) and here I was trying to slot more travel into the schedule.

I'll admit it. This is an addiction. I have an addiction to babies, & I will move heaven & earth to feed it. Especially if they are my sisters' babies. Holding those fragile, precious little bundles of brand new life, inhaling that new baby smell, knowing this is my blood even though I didn't have to do irreparable damage to my own ha-cha-cha to bring it into this world? It's a miracle, & it gets me every single time.

How about you? Do you have any unreasonable addictions you'll go to any lengths to feed? Obviously mine is nieces & nephews, but I'll also cop to Diet Coke & romance novels. Your turn!