HUSHY baby,
my doll, I pray you don't cry,
And I'll give you some bread and some milk by-and-by;
Or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart,—
Then to either you're welcome, with all my whole heart.
And I'll give you some bread and some milk by-and-by;
Or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart,—
Then to either you're welcome, with all my whole heart.
(traditional nursery rhyme)
With drooping eyes and frazzled nerves, a young mother
carves a trench between the sofa and the hall. Moonlight falls across the
pacing forms, a waif-like automaton and the wailing bundle of swaddling. So precious, so loved, yet so torturous
is the bundle.
“Hushy baby,”
the young mother croons. “Please don’t cry.”
But the keening continues and so the mother paces and
bounces. Jiggles and cajoles. Fed and burped and loved and bounced, nothing
seems to pacify the tiny tyrant.
“A clean diaper, perhaps,” she mumbles to herself.
Down the hall they trek, up the stairs and to the nursery.
Items collected, a diaper and wipes, powder, just in case. The wails seem to echo upstairs
and she fears her husband will awake.
“ Would serve him right,” she thinks ungraciously and she mentally chastises
herself for being so surly. He was
up for the first waking and had to get up for work in only two hours.
Determined, she bows to her work and begins to change the
child’s sodden diaper. The child’s
screeching ratchets up several notches as the cool night air reaches warm skin.
Quickly she finishes the chore and scoops the child to her chest.
The intoxicating scent of newborn reaches her as downy hair
tickles her nose and lips. The
stress of the last weeks suddenly falls from her shoulders and everything is
right in the world.
Her temporary reprieve is shattered as the child renews her
nocturnal lament. Down the stairs they race and to the moonlight-filled sitting
room. The mother stares at her child and wonders what she should try next. With eyes screwed up tight and fists
clenched, the tiny princess squeals in frustration.
Abruptly the child stops as another noise intrudes upon the
night.
“Grrrrrrr…”
“Gurgle, grrrrpppp.”
The mother’s stomach had begun to growl. When was the last time she had eaten?
The mother gazed into the child’s curious dark eyes. She couldn’t remember.
“That evening? Surely not. Then lunch maybe?”
But try as she might, the mother could not recall her last
meal.
“Well, we are up anyway. Might as well make something to
eat,” she said to the child who seemed to gaze at her with knowing eyes.
Into the kitchen she went with he now content child secured
to her chest with a wrap. Pans clanked and flour flew as muffins and tarts
began to fill the counters. The
young mother baked and ate to her heart’s content and by the time she was full,
the satisfied child was sound asleep.
The mother felt much better too. Relaxed and sated the mother realized
she had been neglecting herself.
“Clever girl,” the mother whispered to the sleeping child.
“Already wise beyond your years.”
Rejuvenated and full of delicious treats the mother mounted
the stairs and sweetly tucked the precious child into bed.
From that day on, it became a ritual for the two of them,
the late night baking, and the mother made far more treats than her small
family could possibly eat. Soon
the whole neighborhood had enjoyed the midnight delights of the young mother’s
kitchen and they were demanding more!
As word of her baking spread the mother realized she could start her own
business with her and her daughters favorite hobby. And so she did.
And that is how the clever little girl helped start the most
famous bakery in town.
Authors Note
As I read this nursery rhyme, I was reminded of the wonderful yet excruciating first few weeks after the birth of my son. Some babies have an easy temperament and sleep through the night very early on. Others, like my son, can be a bit more particular. I clearly remember begging, pleading, and bargaining with my newborn son during the early morning hours after several nights without sleep. I promised him ponies and candy in my delirious desperation. This connection made me chose this nursery rhyme and from there I just let my imagination go. I hope you enjoyed it.
-Kalin Taylor
Bibliography
Lang, A., & Brooke, L. (1972). The nursery rhyme book. New York: Dover Publications.
Image of young child with batter and spoon. Source: pixabay
I enjoyed the story very much. I remember very little of when my daughter was a newborn. She is 14 now, the time has flown by so fast. My daughter was an angel the first year of life, did not cry much or get sick, but once she turned two she became a little monster. She was such a handful of nonstop needing my attention until she was 12 I swear. I feel for you though, there is not much else in the world like being sleep deprived new mom. This is a great story that most parents and grandparents can appreciate. Good job on the creativity!
ReplyDeleteThank you LaDawn, I'm glad you enjoyed the story. I hope that our next child is an easy baby or I'm a better mommy!
ReplyDeleteAwesome story, Kalin. I really enjoyed reading this. Your writing is so descriptive and well written. I think it sounds like you took some of your experience as a mom and applied it to this story. I think that really shows because the story is very descriptive. I also love your vocabulary; it adds such a nice level. I struggle sometimes with creative writing because I am journalism major but you do such a good job! Well done
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Avery. After reading some other student's blogs, I am amazed at the writing skills we have in this class. I hope that working with others (who are much better than myself) will help me improve. I hope my stories get better each week.
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