The usual outcome of being nine months pregnant is to have a baby. Baruch Hashem, I had one.
Behold: Menachem Mendel Kurtz, the baby of all babies, the love of my life, among the best people that G-d gave me.
Oh My G-d look at that face. I could look at Mendel’s face all day and be completely entertained. I have a day job and I have to also be a blogger, not to mention that the house doesn’t clean itself, but left to my own devices I would just play with my baby all day and sing him stupid songs.
The songs are so stupid, but they make me so happy. “Let’s Clean the Poopie Off Your Bum” is a solid gold hit sure to get a Grammy this year, if only the Grammy Awards people could hang out with Mendel and me at diaper time. I also invite the Grammy Awards people to consider “Who Loves The Mendeleh?” (written and performed by my husband, to the tune of “Mishe Nichnas Adar”), and “The Lovely Mendel’s Here to Stay” (sung to the tune of “The Lovely Wendy’s Here to Stay” from the musical version of “Peter Pan”, written and performed by yours truly with a very enthusiastic refrain of “We have a Mendel / At last we have a Mendel”).
I don’t even hate getting up to feed him in the middle of the night because as soon as I get out of bed and approach his crib, I see his little face and his little hands and his little feet and I just want to feed him and make him happy.
I mean, how could I not be totally enthralled with this mini-person? I find it amazing and miraculous that he is a complete human being in such a tiny package.
To sum this up: Holy smokes. I’m a mom. I like being a mom. My baby is awesome, thanks G-d, bli ayin hara. It’s hard to get work done but I am getting better at it; I have a sink full of dirty dishes right now; I am not sure if we should switch to cloth diapers; is it OK to drink coffee and then nurse the baby?; I am obsessed with Mendel’s chunky cheeks and chin; I call my baby “Bubba Kurtz” because I think it sounds gangster — like Bugsy Siegel; Does he know how much I love him?
I look at the world and I’m like, “WTF, man.” But then I look at Mendel and I’m like, “G-d is good. G-d makes miracles.” Thanks for the miracle, Tati.
