Mikey's a Double Uncle...

I won't post pictures (yet), because I haven't gotten approval from my brother, his family, and gotten the signed signature of a certain 7-pound bundle of gums, tears, and swaddling cloth. But I wanted to let y'all know that my niece, Allison Renee, was born this past Monday.

Babies are a funny thing. They terrify me. No because their eyes are glazed, they claw at nothing and are as loud as all get-out (whatever that means). But because I don't know what to do with them.

First off, I have no idea how to hold them. Their heads just flop around if you don't support them—at least that's what I've been told. So I make my arms into some sort of basket, have someone drop (gently) the infant into the cavity, then cock my shoulder up. That tilts the basket upwards, and sort of supports the child's head and neck. But, boy, does it give me a crick in mine.

Then, once I've got the baby, I have no idea what comes next. I can kind of bounce them by lifting my shoulder up and down. But that just makes me look like I'm doing the "What is love?" dance from SNL... "Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me... no more!" Plus, the movements are pretty jarring to the kid, who'll immediately start screaming.

While they're bawling, I try to distract them with delightful running commentary. For example, when I held Allie (my new niece) for the first time, I explained to her the wonders of Velcro, how it works with miniature hooks and loops, and that it's made in the great state of New Hampshire, which is also known as The Granite State. She just cried some more. Then, I explained she was wrapped up like a burrito and I regaled her with the wonders of meat, rice and beans tied up in a tortilla. She quieted up a bit then.

So I sat there, neck getting sore and florescent lights glowing off the tile floor, holding a baby that really did look and feel like a warm burrito. I was totally unsure of what to do, so I yammered on about nonsense. Until she opened her eyes.

Her lids flickered, sleepily (it's hard work being born). Then they opened halfway. The big, blue orbs looked up at me. Probably, she couldn't see anything. Maybe she saw a shadow. But I saw her; I really saw her. And I stopped yammering. She wasn't crying anymore. It didn't matter how I held her. Just the fact that I did.

Yeah, I can do this uncle thing. It's not so scary after all.

Reason #4,239 I'm not ready to have kids...

I love my niece. She's the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I'm not saying that just because she's related to me (not that it hurts, ha).

She's my first niece, is the first grandkid on both sides of the family and is an only child. So, um, yeah, she's spoiled rotten. Not that she's bratty in the least - she just loves being the center of attention. Ashleigh is cute, smart and happy... just a terrific all-around baby.

Most of the time, that is.

We spent nine hours together in the car on two separate occasions last week on drives to and from Buffalo for Christmas. That's a long time for anyone to be confined in a small space, never mind a 1-year-old strapped into a car seat. On the way out there, she did great for 7-and-a-half hours. But for that last 90 minutes? As they say in Jersey, "fuhgeddaboudit."

She was not happy. And she was vocal about it. Her entire face was contorted into the most pitiful expression you'd ever seen. Her mouth, with every single one of her gappy, sparse baby teeth showing, was wide open. The pink tongue stuck partly out as scream after scream rolled over it. She screamed high, she gurgled low and gasped for breath and then she screamed again. And again. And again.

I have minimal experience with babies. But what I have learned from the few friends of mine that are parents is that sometimes, kids just need to cry it out. They get overtired and a good cry will help them fall asleep. I, in my blissful ignorance, assumed this would be the case.

Sadly, it was not to be. Lil' Ashleigh is a stubborn baby girl. And, apparently, she had drank some Red Bull or something, because she was not about to just roll over and fall asleep. Nope; she was just going to keep on screaming.

Jen (my sister) and I were in the car together... I was driving and even though cruise control was on, I didn't feel like it would be safe for me to turn around and start making funny faces to my toddler backseat passenger, so Jen was in charge of quieting Ashleigh down with the help of my shouted suggestions. It sort of went like this:

M - "Give her something, anything!"
J - "Here's a book, Ashleigh, you love books."
A - "Wahhhh... AIEEEEEE... EEEEEEK!"
M - "Try the cups! Try the cups!"
J - "Here's your stackable cups, you love those things. Remember, you were playing with them for an hour while we drove through Albany."
A - "AH-AH-AH... WAAHEEEE!"
M - "Try milk!"
J - "Do you want your milk?"
A - (takes bottle and throws it on floor, continues one constant scream, uninterrupted by a single breath, for 270 seconds straight)
M - "Try water! Try singing! Try baby-talk! Try yoga pressure points! Try speaking in tongues!"

This went on for half an hour until we both gave up and sat in silence, listening to her varying pitches of screams. It was an operatic performance, indeed; she put on quite the Baby Einstein aria for us.

Finally, we caved. Jen called our parents, who were driving in a different car. We ended up pulling into the next rest stop and switched cars for the final 25 minutes to Buffalo, both of us with a splitting headache.

My parents reported that Ashleigh didn't peep once for the entire ride.

Gah!