My most embarrassing trait.

 

Now, I must preface this with saying that this is according to my oldest son Horatio. If it were up to me, it would be the fact that I have a dreadful, spluttering sneeze which at times causes me to pee my pants a little. DAMN YOU KIDS AND THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE DONE TO MY INNOCENT PELVIC FLOOR!

The thing I have I realised this summer, is that I have a habit which makes Horatio “cringe”. Cringe is a big word in his vocabulary. “You are so cringe!” Now, I don’t deliberately set out to embarrass my lad, for I am not that cruel. But I have a thing that I do which sends him spare.

“What is it?” I hear you ask. So I shall tell you.

I stop people with babies so I can coo at them. Isn’t that dreadful?

I am that person who will hold other people’s babies on a plane to give them a break. Oh and I chat away with the bubba in my stupid baby voice while Horatio has an apoplectic fit of note.

“stop it mum you are so embarrassing…..” He will hiss at me under his breath. But it is a sickness. I cannot help it.

Last week, we were holidaying on the Goldie. We were spending the afternoon my the pool, reading my book and keeping my liquids up on the form of Gin and Tonics. A mother arrived with two little girls and a brand new freshie. She settled herself and her brood not far from where we were set up and watched as her two girls splashed around. I was with my friend Tara, who also suffers from the same debilitating habit, perhaps even worse that I do and we started talking about how divine babies actually are. We spoke of days of yore, where we would spend hours just playing and staring at our infants.

The lady came and sat at the edge of the pool in front of us, and we quickly struck up a conversation. She was an American lady, and they are great talkers, generally speaking. I asked how old her baby was and she told me that she was six weeks old.

What was left of my ovaries exploded in a powered, pathetic puff. I asked her if she would like a little break as I was up for a snuggle. She thanked me and handed that tiny bubba over before going over to the bar and fetching a pink cocktail.

Horatio looked on in horror.

“stop it mum why do you do that I am so embarrassed” Horatio doesn’t use punctuation so I have left it out of his dialogue because I am nothing if not #authentic.

Over the week I think Tara and I held every baby that was staying at the hotel, and there were quite a few.

I talk to babies at the shops, at the doctor’s surgery, at cafes and any fine outlet that babies tend to be. I like to tell Mums that they are doing a terrific job and to enjoy them before they become 6 odd foot of grunt.

Recently, my good friend and writer Carly Smaggle, had a baby and she has been quite generous with sending little videos and photos so I can get my fix.

So I leave you today as I ask myself the question… “Mrs Woog, what the fuck is wrong with you? Is this normal?”

Do you talk to strangers babies?

Do you think it is because I am too old to have one, I need one?