Grandbabies.

Let's start out to say I like fat babies. Not just fat, obese. If it is on a daytime talk show getting gawked at by the audience members, that's probably the right size for me. The bigger the better. I was robbed with a stick thin baby. Good thing he was cute. I give this one an 8 out of 10.

(That was totally unrelated to the topic of this post.)

I have some amazing friends. On top of being spectacular human beings, they are fertile as all get up. Last year was the year of the baby. Four of my closest friends popped one out. Such is life in your late 20's. And actually two on the SAME DAY, in the same hospital. The probability seems numerically impossible. If you've seen Father of the Bride 2, it was not far from that. I'll be George, you be Franz, let's do this...

This was an outing with 3 of my babies, Matt, Pax and Evan. When I see the "grandbabies" there is a lot of squealing, smooching and squeezing on my part. It's rather ridiculous. How fun it is to watch them grow and become these amazing little beings. My friends have taught me how to mother, for which I am overwhelmingly grateful. I don't know how mothers do it without other mothers.

And then sweet Lennox. He's only the 95% percentile. His brother was off the charts, so that's little for their family.


On the other hand, it's strange when you get to the age in life past family growing years when people (well, men mainly) move into the big V of their lives. And I don't mean Vegas. Such is life in your late 20's.

Good news is that some of them aren't finished with their child bearing years. And oh, how excited that makes me. Auntie Grandma Alicia needs more babies to smooch. I am going to seriously creep these kids out in a few years, but I don't care. Bring on the babies!