Just Write: Is he a good baby?

I forget that a baby turns checkout line strangers into "friends", until the sweet grandpa in line behind me loads my groceries onto the conveyor so I can soothe mine. As I juggle the bags, the carseat, the fussing (always fussing) newborn and remind the almost preschooler (so close to preschooler...it's impossible. It's only been five minutes since he was the milk drunk love on my lap) to put-that-down-running-please-walk one more time, my elderly helper, asks "Boy or Girl?" "Boy", I answer. Then, for first of many times over these too fast first weeks, from the cashier "He's beautiful. Is he a good baby?"

There are no bad babies, as my mom would say. Except, he cries hours a night. And when he isn't crying, he's fussing. And when he isn't fussing he grunts with a furrowed little brow, just catching his breath to cry again. So, maybe someone is doing something wrong. Realistically, I know it isn't him. But at two am for the fifth day in a row, its harder to remember which of the two of us needs to keep calm.

And really, in these so early days, there are only two of us in the equation. Yes, there is his daddy, and his ever present sometimes loving big brother, but right now, his little world revolves around me, and mine him. And he's miserable, which makes me miserable, and only one of us can do anything about it. But I'm fresh out of ideas.

So I say to the cashier, "Of course he's good" because, he must be. He's straight from heaven, hasn't had the chance to be any different. And I say to myself "Keep it together, let's just get to the car" . And I say to the not-quite preschooler "Keep your hand on the cart". Then I load the groceries, pray the baby will just.stop.crying for a few minutes and try not to cry myself.