When I was growing up, I didn’t love babies. I was never asked to babysit and that did not make me sad. Babies were… fine. But they were out of my league.
Now I have my own babies. I know about babies. I have learned functional skills to keep them alive, and bounce them to make them happy. I know about supporting their heads and how very, very long it takes to incubate them in a womb then expel them into the cold, dark world. I know about nipple chapping and after birth.
I know things.
So, I love babies. So much. Everyone’s baby. Seriously. Everyone’s baby I love. My friend from high school I haven’t spoken to in 10 years? Slap a like on that baby picture. My fellow moms from college? Giddy when I see those baby faces. Like. Like. Like. Comment, comment, comment. Babies are precious and adorable and lovable and cute and squishy. I love them. Even sometimes I don’t like or comment on a baby picture because I’m sure that I seem like a psycho stalker mom who never gets off her phone. But I liked it in my head. There’s no stopping me.
If I’ve blown up your social media about your cute baby(ies) I don’t care. I won’t apologize. Keep having babies too. Have like 8 babies.