Once our suspicions were confirmed, I was very excited about the forthcoming creature- and then I became very curious as well. This was one of the first babies to be created who was the product of two of my friends. So I was interested in this baby as a person long before she was born. I am usually only interested in babies for their fat legs and faces, and for the need they create to purchase tiny amusing costumes made to look like mushrooms, bears, and tacos for Halloween (or any day of the year, really).
So Hannah, true to form, stuck to it and remained pregnant for all 9 months. This was no surprise- Hannah is known for sticking to everything she decides to do, such as rigorous and challenging New Year's Resolutions (most of which make me want to cry) without batting a false eyelash. As a result, she had a baby.
This baby is named Reagan, and is supposed to call me Auntie Audra. Which delights me, but which she still refuses to do even though she's already 3 months old. More on that later.
I was unable to hold Reagan for awhile because apparently babies get ahead of themselves and usually insist on coming out prior to the delivery of their immune systems. That doesn't make any sense to me, and is generally inconvenient for everyone else, but it turns out there's some vaccine which grown humans only receive routinely if they teach in public schools, and if they do not- are kept entirely in the dark about. It is referred to by some set of initials. Hannah knows.
I was called upon to assist at baby Reagan's first photo shoot, the details of which may be secret, so I'll stop here on this topic except to say that it was nothing out of the ordinary. The usual booties and tutus. And feather boas. And handcuffs.
Reagan's father is John. John used to work at the bank, which made me feel important because I was friends with him. John decided that banking wasn't floating his boat, and so now, John is a policeman. Which makes me feel VERY important because I am friends with him. I almost got the opportunity once to be the subject of Arresting People Rehearsal, but schedules didn't pan out. I haven't given up hope though. There may be a brush-up.
Anyway, this morning I was called upon to watch Reagan for a couple hours while Hannah went to MCV to organize the entire hospital into a more productive operation.
Left on the counter for me was a typed sheet of bulleted instructions and a peanut-butter filled KONG toy. Left to my own discretion, this could've gotten ugly, but Hannah clarified before she left that the toy was for the dog.
[Note: KONG toys work very well with dogs. Robert Throckmorton's dog, Baxter, has one as well. You give a dog a KONG and you don't see it again for hours.]
Hannah leaves.
I go into the living room and stand staring at the tiny surveillance television that is installed on the side table with an aerial, thermal-imaging, fluorescent view of Reagan in her crib. She is laying there. Turning her head occasionally. Looks like a raisin on a dry-erase board from this angle. Then she starts clacking and gurgling. Hannah has told me that this means bottle time. I prepare the bottle as instructed and then go up the stairs to fetch the baby. I stand hesitant in the nursery doorway for a moment-- Do I take off my hat? Do I take off my glasses? Do I disassemble my top knot? Which presentation of me is least likely to terrify this baby?
I go with top knot and glasses. Better her get to know me as I am if I am going to be her Auntie.
Deep breath. I approach. I peer down at her over the railing. "Hello, Reagan." She ignores me completely. That won't do. I prod her cheek with my finger. She grins hugely. I immediately like her A LOT.
We go downstairs. We chat about how much I like her onesie and how much I wish they came in Auntie Audra sizes at Target. We step out on the side porch. We chat about how much taller her mother and father are than Auntie Audra and how that makes it challenging to get to the side porch as it is locked and the key is a place I cannot easily reach without a stepladder, let alone while I'm holding a small, bald person who is currently leaking from the mouth. I offer Reagan her bottle. She politely declines, but this makes total sense as she has just come down with a case of the hiccups. This goes on for a while, and I am marveling at her good attitude re. hiccups. I find them very frustrating. I try to provide calming atmosphere the best I can as she deals with her hiccups. I walk, I rub her back, I perform Tracks 9-11 of the "Hamilton" soundtrack- Disc 1. It's going well, I've just gotten to the counterpoint section of "Satisfied," and very suddenly it becomes clear that Reagan is NO LONGER OK with the hiccups. Screams. Shrieks. Wails. Gasping, tearing wrenching sobs grind my eardrums. The dog presses his teeth against the screen porch door in agony. Though slightly deafened, I am still impressed because I have never before met anyone who did not require breathing to cry. At all. Don't know how she did it.
We go inside, as I am starting to feel sympathy for the neighbors, and after a few laps of the den and a quick diaper check, the hiccups subside. Bottle is successfully consumed. Having been instructed to burp her thoroughly, I do so with relish. Well done, if I do say so myself. Burp cloth ideally placed, baby lying comfortably over my shoulder. Pat pat pat pat pat (wait, I saw John do this once and he was doing it harder) PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT--- and then ENORMOUSBELCHIMMEDIATELYSNORING. I've never seen anything like this either. This baby is marvel of modern science. Her transition from shriek => burp => deep deep sleep happened in under a second.
I congratulate myself on being an awesome baby-sitter. We have a seat on the couch. She is sleeping on my shoulder. I think about how this is the part where everyone with babies on the internet starts taking photos of the feet and the sleeping face. I decide that's not necessary as I've already gotten a great photo of her in my fedora and instead get caught up in a 50 year "Days Of Our Lives" reunion segment on "Live With Kelly & Michael." I tell Reagan, over her snores, all about Regis and Kathie Lee, and how she left the show and then Kelly came on. And how Regis then retired and was replaced by this Michael fellow, who I thought was a sports athlete but couldn't remember of what sort.
I'm starting to doze myself when suddenly, Reagan wakes up. See, I know this because Reagan, it turns out, does not wake up with a snuffle or a coo. Reagan wakes up with a cement-melting roar. Again- impressed.
I hurry her into her vibrating chair. She calms right down and seems to enjoy the hard plastic lions and spinny things hanging over her head. I tell her, in the interest of honesty, that I don't think that hard plastic lion and spinny things are very entertaining. As baby toys go. There's nothing shiny and the lion bit has a speaker attached but no visible button to push to make any sound come out. I imagine she'll want to move on soon.
The vibrating is good though, and things are swell until I hear it.
Now- I learned today that babies are a lot like microwaves. If quiet, you wouldn't know they were there. But if you look at them during these times, they can be fascinating.
- Babies: blinking, sticking their tongue out, eating their hands, smiling for reasons you don't know and making you wonder.
- Microwaves: if you stare through the grid on the front long enough that cool effect will happen to your eyes and suddenly you won't be able to make out what's inside anymore.
- Microwaves: a ding when your food is done. A repeated ding if you didn't hear it the first time or are not attending to it in a timely fashion.
- Babies: a small wail, a medium wail, graduating to larger wails when in need of feeding, holding, or attention. Or - the sound a 20-gallon trash bag filled with pudding and pop rocks would make slamming into the pavement when dropped from a height of, oh say.... Mars. This is the sound babies will make to alert you that something has happened in their diaper. If you are really on top of your game, you can address this right away, because conveniently, this sound is made not by the baby's voice but by the very issue you need to address.
We hustle upstairs. Problem addressed; problem solved. Happy Reagan; Happy Auntie Audra. I have Fia Foley to thank for my proficiency in this matter.
Very shortly after this, John arrived home from the gym and, beaming, reached out his arms for his daughter. He says, "Hey, Gorgeous!" and tells her her face looks thin.
Auntie Audra will take you for frozen yogurt, Reagan. Anytime.
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