Baby Gramma

Taking my cue from the blissfully unenlightened.

The happiest people I know share a single, obvious trait: they are babies. Babies know nothing apart from their immediate situation. If their diaper is full or their belly is empty, they are miserable pint-sized sons-of-bitches, but otherwise, they bobble through their little lives without a care in the goddam world.

Of course, I envy them (who doesn’t?) but talk about ignorance!

Unlike babies, I’m no dummy. In fact, I know too much.

My best chance at happiness is to stop taking the 24-hour news cycle and my time-tested but slightly hysterical nature to heart. Why let the world color my world? It’s a challenge, though. Empaths (and I am one) tend to take on the tone of everything around them, like chameleons; on a cellular lever, we struggle with establishing healthy boundaries.

When it comes to current events, I could make like an ostrich. But where’s the fun in being willfully uninformed? I like knowing things, even the most awful stuff. That said, I don’t want my inquiring mind to keep turning me into a bummer.

The solution is simple: I need to spend more time hanging out with babies. That’s where Henry, my grandson, comes in. He’s currently visiting, chock-full of giggles and adorable goofy smiles because he simply doesn’t know any better. And chameleon me, well, I find myself giggling and goofy smiling right back. It’s not a permanent solution, I know, but I’m happy for the reprieve of being his grandma. That’s right, I said happy. The world can wait.