Yes, I Am Talking To You

One of the best things about being a mother is that I am slightly less crazier in the view of the outside world. If you see me in the supermarket, hiking around the ranch, or just driving in my car, you'll see me talking to my baby. "How sweet," you think, "that mommy is teaching her baby his colors, or animal noises."

Suckers. It's all a ploy. I talked to myself just as much before, but now I have an audience. And he can't say, "Mom, really. That's quite enough." Sure, he can cry or go to sleep, but that doesn't matter to me. There's still a warm little body present who I may or may not be addressing.

This realization came to me today, as Owen and I sat on a swing together at a beautiful park on a hill. The sun was setting and it almost felt like autumn as the temperature started to drop. I was telling Owen what we were going to do next (pick up Daddy), what we were having for dinner (beef stroganoff), and what I thought of our new neighbor (potential mom-friend, booyah). Then I saw this teenage girl coming up the hill behind us with her dog. No doubt she thought me crazy (lone woman, creaking swing, dusk approaching, jumbled muttering) until she crossed in front and noticed the babe. Who's crazy now random teenage girl? Still me, I think.

Added bonus to being a mom: dressing in semi-matching outfits.

Exhibit A: VEST DAY!