Exercise Is Bad For Me

You know how when you’re home alone with your first baby, you find yourself talking to him/her about everything? It’s like you finally have a legitimate excuse to talk to yourself out loud. I also used to talk to my cats, but talking to a baby Ironflower somehow felt more appropriate. I mean, all the baby books said to do it. So I did. But I didn’t just say things about her cute little toes or how yummy the cereal was. Oh no, I talked to her about everything. Same thing with Lovebug, although there was more child appropriate talk that included toddler Ironflower.

This might be why my children are extraordinarily verbal. Of course, their verbosity could also come from whatever gene drove me to discuss my emotional well-being with my eight month olds. Anyway. . .

ChunkyMonkey has mostly been spared my rambling. His siblings talk too much to allow me my monologues and when I am alone with the poor kid I generally just want silence. However, since the big kids started camp last week I’ve actually had hours alone with the baby.

Mostly, we’ve been walking. It seems to distract him from teething pain and I find it preferable to cleaning my house. Anyway, on our walks through deserted neighborhoods I’ve taken to talking to him. About stuff that has nothing to do with his chubby cheeks and kissable toes. Usually he just falls asleep.

Naturally he was asleep this morning as I ranted about some things that were annoying me. Which would have been fine, if a horrified woman had not popped up from her flower beds as I was passing by. Even though I’d been talking in a low voice, she’d heard every bitchy word I’d said. To my innocent baby. The look she gave me would have been more appropriate if she’d seen me sticking needles into him. Then she . . . . BACKED AWAY from me, clutching her gardening implements. Like I was a crazy person.

So then I started wondering, AM I a crazy person? Or does everyone talk to their babies about their problems?