Conversation Killer

Is it just me, or are babies real conversation killers sometimes?

(If your first reaction is “OMG she doesn’t love her baby!” then kindly take your opinion and stick a sharp pin in it.  But keep reading, because I need the audience.)

It has become clear to me that are multiple ways babies kill conversations.  They cry and fuss and demand attention by way of dirty diapers and needing to be fed right now Mummy because obviously I’m STARVING TO DEATH because I’m screaming like I haven’t eaten in 2 days not just two hours and I’m only six weeks old so no, I will not keep things in perspective.

But babies are also conversation killers without even trying to be.  And in this way, they don’t kill every conversation.  Just any conversation that’s not about them.

How is it that when you are pregnant, or have an infant, (and perhaps even as they get older though God, I really hope not), there seems to be nothing else to talk about than these kids?  Is there nothing else interesting happening in the world?  What about the US Presidential elections?  The continued decline of the global economy?  What Kim and Kanye wore to the gym yesterday?

We had some friends over for lunch a couple of weeks ago, and babies seemed to be the order of the day.  It was 3 hours of talking about nothing except eating and sleeping and pooping and playing.  I love my friends.  They came over with nothing but the best of intentions.  But all I wanted to hear about the last cool concert they went to, not discuss baby feeding schedules.

Last night, another couple of friends were over.  And again, it was babies, babies all the live long day.  This time there was one baby out of the womb (mine) and one baby in the womb (one of said friends) and besides babies and their imminent arrivals, there seemed to be nothing else in the world.

Was I like this when I was pregnant?  Did I talk about pregnancy and babies like nothing else existed?  That’s not how I remember it, but it wouldn’t surprise me.  Only because the only things people want to talk to a pregnant woman about is pregnancy and babies.

And now that she’s here, have I fallen into his baby abyss without knowing it?  No doubt, I talk about her a lot.  But I refuse to take all the blame.  Ask me how she is.  I’ll tell you she’s perfect.  Then ask me what I think Guiliana and Bill should name their little boy.  Ask me what I think the city should do about its public transit problem.  Ask me my opinion on  all the recent gun violence in Toronto, the fixing of the LIBOR by world banks, or unrest in the Middle East.  Ask me about my next vacation, my hobbies, my hair.  Ask me about anything.  I promise to do my best to keep the baby’s fussing to a minimum, so that she doesn’t steal the conversation right back when it gets going in a new and exciting direction.  But let’s at last least try.  Because I love those conversations.  Let’s not let them die.