I really am.

Kids love me. Babies love me. 

It’s just this magical thing I have.

I have no control over it.

I’m like a magnet. Kids are like whatever it is that is attracted to magnets … uh … metal? OK. So, I’m a magnet and kids are metal. There.

I’m not sure when I discovered this gift. It was pretty early on. I think I was 14 when I started babysitting daily for my dance teacher. She had two small kids and I took care of them through the summer while she taught classes and even when she didn’t teach, I helped her out at home. I loved it. The kids took to me immediately. I didn’t have to try. It was easy.

As time went on and I got older, I realized, I’m pretty great with kids. Hence, the whole becoming a teacher thing. Easy.

And, I really do LOVE kids. They’re awesome and I easily relate to them because they’re so real and honest. They don’t have all the junk and hidden agendas adults do. Ew … adults. They can be a challenge, can’t they?

Anyhoo …

I held the sweetest baby girl yesterday at church.

Look. How. Cute. 

(her obviously, not me … although I was having a good hair day for about two seconds before I stepped into the stupid south Louisiana sticky blazing hot water weather)

Um … we even matched our outfits, unintentionally of course.

Baby Nora is like a little piece of heaven wrapped in precious chunky goodness. And, I mean “chunky” in the best way ever! She’s got the greatest baby knees and thighs. If only those were cute on me!!

So … why do I show you this picture of this adorable baby girl?

Oh, because as I held her, I realized something … something that Beau would disagree with I’m sure. Yeah, he totally would disagree with.

I wish we would have had one more baby.

Of course, we’re not. We can’t. For multiple medical reasons and the fact that we’re like 80 now.

The decision was the practical one. It really was. Gosh. I mean we’re not the Rockefeller’s. We got bills to pay. And, while I know it was right for us, there’s still something since I’ve gotten older that screams … “one more baby.” Dumb hormones, age, and junk.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m so thankful for the two girls God has given us. Extremely thankful.

But, now my thoughts are full of this … “the next baby in your life will be your grandchild.” WHOA! Back the thing up …

Guys and gals … I am NOT old enough to be a grandmother, grandma, granny, maw maw, mee maw … OH. GEEZ. .. the thought of being called “mee maw” just gave me heart palpitations. No one will call me Mee Maw. I don’t play the banjo and I have all my teeth (well except for the incident with the belt buckle of 1980-something that knocked out portions of my front two teeth … on man, I am a mee maw).

OK. Breathe.

So, I will hold onto my pied-piping abilities with all these babies around me and gather up all the baby goodness I can. I will savor every minute of it.

Until that joyous and dreaded day of the mee maw … Gross.