There is no so thing as an “easy baby” because raising tiny humans is the hardest job there is. Period. There is only one line in their user manual and it reads: “completely unreasonable”. So this weekend when my cousin with one baby asked how life with three is even humanly possible--I told her having three children is absolutely amazing with one important stipulation: the third baby must love everything. Without this, it would likely be a complete disaster. I recognize by putting this into the universe I am breaking the cardinal rule of motherhood: never speak the good aloud or you forfeit your right to sleep and must do a round of Hand Foot and Mouth as penance—but it must be said: Josephine loves everything. She loves: nursing, vegetables, her sisters singing unreasonably loud 1 mm from her face, pacifiers, no pacifier, sleeping, the front back, her car seat, swimming, baths, and everyone. In a completely unsurprising turn of events yesterday I discovered she loves the swings at the park. The one thing she isn’t fond of are bottles, but even then, she won’t complain about it or cry she will simply eat solid foods and wait without complaint until me and my boobs get home.
Now that mothers everywhere have stopped reading and unfriended me, just know that I know how lucky I am.
I had heard of these mythical unicorn babies before but couldn’t believe they existed or were sure they were exaggerated by delusional, exhausted mothers. After all, I thought Charlotte was a good baby and she had colic for 4 months. Am I being rewarded for having the foreknowledge only acquired through the trial and error of my previous babies? I have absolutely no idea. But I am soaking up every ounce of her little smiling face without ever questioning the magic. Despite her undeniable goodness, you will never hear me call any baby “easy” because the only thing I find simple about raising babies is how easy they are to love.