There comes a time in a mother’s life when she realizes that having children is no joke. In fact, it’s serious business, and it’s high time we got to it! So it should be no surprise that we went out and got ourselves a child who now goes by the name Csonka (that’s “zonka” for those who like phonetic spellings). As babies go, he’s certainly living up to his potential for terrible teething, intolerable insomnia, and purely putrid poops, but as mothers go, I have no choice but to live up to my potential for loving him in spite of all his predictable faults. Now that we have this new permanent fixture around here, I thought I’d let everyone in on the wonderful story of the day we brought him home:
Little Csonka was almost 8 weeks old, and his father, in particular, was very anxious to bring him into his rightful home. After all, we paid good money for our baby, and it was about time we got to see his handsome little face! On a lovely Saturday morning, we got that long-awaited call that it was time. After the frantic hustle and bustle that got Samantha and her sister Olive in the car, we headed over to Winder, Georgia to meet our little boy. The drive seemed to last ages, but we finally made it. Of course, upon seeing his face it was love at first sight. What handsome blue eyes! And what gorgeous brown ears! It was no surprise he nestled deep into my arms, and huffed a loud sigh of relief that we had finally come to take him home. Of course, the “baby moon” is often all-too-brief, and ours was no exception. After those first few glorious minutes of the way home, our boy turned toward me, looked deep into my eyes, and immediately vomited what seemed like a massive amount of kibble for such a tiny body. Being the perfect picture of motherly patience, I pushed all notions of panic aside, and took it like a champ. Surely, all the kibble was just a momentary hiccup in this most meaningful excursion. Yes, I’m sure that was it. Except, that now, Csonka seemed to being have a fit– an awfully loud fit of high pitched crying (screaming?). The crying came in odd spurts and seemed to be getting. . .what was that? More urgent? Yes, I think that must be it because he once again vomited all over me, but thank goodness, that motherly intuition must be coming back, because this time, I grabbed a bag! Yes, that tote bag that was once the snack bag is multi-purpose after all! Despite my quick thinking, we decided to pull over and re-evaluate. After shedding my jacket ,which was mostly covered in Csonka’s bountiful gift, I resolved to be un-phased by this acute case of the coming-home-jitters. On the road once again, all was well. For a few minutes, that is, until the fits of screaming got louder and louder, and was that the boy screaming? No, it was me, screaming for that darn bag! Of course, it’s in the trunk! Where else would you put vomit! No worries, my quick-wit and motherly intuition told me exactly what to do! So, I responded without a hitch and caught that twice-baked kibble right where it should go! In my perfectly suited out-stretched hands. Of course, as part of this task to remain forever un-phased, it was completely and utterly essential to keep the young father as happy as a lamb. Not wanting to upset him any further (was that him screaming in the driver’s seat? Wasn’t I the one holding cupfuls of vomit? For HIS little boy?), I decided it would be best to keep this slightly dubious plan of mine to myself and the baby. Upon discovering I had no where to actually put this bit of charity, I thought there would be nothing more logical, well thought-out, and completely fool-proof then to discreetly toss it out the back window. (Oh no, Dear! You didn’t hear a thing!) Of course, that was before I remembered that little thing about gravity, inertia, moving vehicles, wind in your face–however you choose to refer to it– either way, after quite a splattering of vomit went all over the back of our car on the outside and inside, I found it necessary to insist we pull over once more. That’s alright, though. No matter. I’m still the un-phased, ever-patient mother, so we’ll just get that bag right out of the trunk, and put it back to work , in case this isn’t quite as short-lived as I dared hope. Once again, on the road, Csonka showed great signs of slowing down. In fact, he was enjoying quite the restful slumber. Rather than giving us fits of super-sonic screams, he snoozed away noiselessly, only to then started retching without preamble. But that’s alright! I’ve got this bag, and my quick mom-hands. Wait, is this bag actually waterproof? It seems likely it’s not. In fact, all of the previous gifts seem to be seeping through already. No matter; certainly it’s better than nothing, right?
Hours later, we finally made it home with our new little bundle of joy. After catching up on his beauty rest in the last few minutes of our journey, he was rested enough to really enjoy putting his heart and soul into howling the night away in his new home. Quite liberally did he bestow on us such wonderful memories of his homecoming, and our newest adventure in parenting.
The handsome boy.
At three and a half months old.