Lately, I’ve been wondering how in the world we have managed to put 6 some odd billion people in existence on this planet. And for that matter, how do people ever manage to have more than one child without going insane from all the different kinds of deprivation that entails? This has been the conundrum running through my head for the past week or two. And Gianna is a great baby. Let’s make that clear right off. She isn’t colicky, hardly ever has gas, cries only when tired or hungry or if mommy has forgotten to change her diaper (and it’s always me forgetting). Okay so nursing hasn’t been easy for us but it’s not exactly her fault. I’ve got the overproducing, overshooting boobs. So she cries when she nurses and it takes us awhile to settle down, sometimes a single feeding takes hours in fact. But, on the whole, this is not a demanding, needy child. I wish she cuddled more actually. I wish she liked being attached the way the attachment parenting books tout as the answer for raising a conscientious, caring, compassionate child (Dr. Sears’ alliteration not mine).

So, today when it took me an hour to get her to nurse through three let downs and then she fell asleep on the bed next to me, I wasn’t about to jeopardize my good fortune and instead I curled up next to her and decided I could use a nap too. Two hours later we both woke up, refreshed, ready to tackle an afternoon of attempts at rolling over, sitting up and babbling our vowel sounds, at which point I realized none of this would have been remotely possible if I had a two or three-year-old running around the house with her. And at that thought, I made a mental note to tell Benoit we have just created an only child and that’s all there is to it. No more. I cannot handle another. Anyone who does and stays at home AND nurses is better than Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Grandma Moses put together. Those women are G-O-D, all in capitals.

It’s too bad Gianna. The only way I would even think about giving you a brother or a sister is if we adopt a toddler. This baby business is too demanding!

For the record, my aunt Chrissie is a saint! And now that the pope himself is here in the U.S. I’ll be sure to pass along my recommendation that she be promptly canonized for her heroic good deeds tonight. She single-handedly (ok, she had her husband for moral support) managed to remember and act enthusiastic about all the stupid instructions I gave her before we left for our date night tonight which included, in order from dumb to dumber: wake up the baby if she’s still sleeping by 7:30, douse the baby in her toddler tub (which everyone knows is a sure-fire way to go deaf), further enrage the baby by attempting to give her a bottle, and if all else fails let her go back to sleep BUT only if it’s past 8:30pm. What was I thinking? I should have just handed her the baby and said, “Good luck. Do whatever you have to do to keep your sanity and have a little fun in the process, ’cause that’s basically how things go around here anyway.” But, my aunt, the saint that she soon will be recognized as, not only fulfilled every stupid new mommy request, she also handed me a restful, peaceful, calm yet mildly awake baby when we got home, ripe for a little feeding and then straight to bed. And wouldn’t you know it, a 10 p.m. bedtime is just perfect. Thank you, thank you, thank you God for giving me a piece of heaven tonight and the family to match! You’re the best Chrissie!!