When Austin came home with a note from the school to say he would be participating in the "real" baby experience, I was excited. I wouldn't say I am eager to become a Grandmother, but I anticipate being very happy about that joyous news... assuming it doesn't come until my own children have moved out, graduated post-secondary and got a job. After that, I expect I will feel elated in the same way I did when I found out Austin would be bringing home a doll that cries, drinks, poops and burps.
The first weekend he brought home "Garrosh Hellscream", named after the Warchief of The Horde on the popular online game, World of Warcraft. Unfortunately, Garrosh never even started to cry or eat or poop. He was a dud baby.
A few weeks later, Swifty arrived. I'm not sure where that name comes from. It turned out to be appropriate because AS SOON as he finished a bottle, Swifty would immediately produce a dirty diaper.
Just for some background on this assignment, the local highschool parenting program has these robotic, life-like dolls (worth about $1000 each) that they send home with a teenager for the weekend to experience what parenting might really be like. At 3 p.m., the doll activates and the student is required to use a magnetic wristband to respond to the baby. Basically, it's like scanning the baby's back in a grocery store except you use your wrist. This prevents mom and dad from babysitting all weekend; no wristband, no ability to take care of baby.
After they scan, the baby proceeds to cry in a specific manner to indicate whether they need feeding, changing or burping. Sometimes - and this is the real clincher - the baby is just fussy and cries no matter what you do. Depending on the circumstance, you use a magnetic baby bottle to feed it, a magnetic diaper to change it, or pat it's back to burp it.
Now, I had been warned that this would be the worst weekend of my life. I had heard stories of the student's parents putting the pretend baby in the trunk of the car overnight so as not to hear the crying. I had heard of other kids breaking the necks of these babies on purpose to ensure a failing grade. I had even heard of totally family meltdowns as a result of these inconsolable little machines. I didn't believe it. But, I believe it now.
The first day was a cinch. If nothing else, Austin is a quick learner and an efficient caretaker. He had a system whereby he would keep Swifty's arms and legs up in the air while sitting in his little carseat (that comes complete with safety straps, I might add) to expediate diaper changes and provide "hands-free" bottle feeding.
I was quite smitten with little Swifty. He sounded just like a real baby when he was drinking that bottle. You know how babies are. They sound like they haven't had a meal in days and they're gulping back the milk like it's a cold beer and last call at The Regal Beagle. <<sigh>> It took me back to a time when my own two teenagers were just babies and not the disrespectful freeloaders they've become.
With a smile on my face and a song in my heart, I would come home from work or back from the grocery store and the first thing I would do is check on my little Swifty.
I found it most satisfying that the greatest demand Swifty had for Austin was food. On the first night, he would cry for food about once every two hours and would drink his bottle for about 10 minutes each time. Austin has a similar appetite and is constantly saying, "Mom, I'm hungry." Now when I say "constantly", what I mean is just that. If he is awake, he's hungry. I have made a roast chicken and a box of Lucky Charms for this child.... as an after school snack. Teenaged boys are cheaper to house than to feed, trust me.
Anyway, I enjoyed feeding times with Swifty. Austin would scan his back and hand the baby over to me. I was not permitted to remove him from his car seat because Austin was afraid I wasn't holding Swifty's neck properly. I would proceed to rock and feed him until he made the cutest little gurgle, indicating he was satisfied. He was soooo sweet. My cat was not impressed with Swifty. He sniffed at the doll disgustedly and probably would have pissed on him if anyone's back had been turned.
Even in the middle of the night on Friday, I never heard much from Austin and Swifty except for the initial cooing, the scanning beep and the eventual satisfied gurgle. I did have a dream that I broke the doll's neck accidentally. In the dream, I was picking Swifty up from his car seat when I heard a snap and I looked down. There, in my hand, was a gear shaft with yellow grease on it that had popped out from the back of his head. I think I tossed and turned for the rest of the night trying to find a way to put Swifty back together again.
Saturday night was a little different. After having a few beers to celebrate my nephew's 40th birthday, I woke up to full out screams around 3 a.m. from Austin's room. Swifty was crying and Austin was sound asleep. I had to shake the hell out of him to "wake up and get the damn baby". It only happened once though. I was disgruntled about losing sleep, but I couldn't be angry with my darling grandchild. This prompted another dream in which we had to prepare magnetic baby cereal for Swifty in order to keep him satisfied for longer periods of time. The cereal was kind of green and Swifty doesn't swallow, but we just kept shovelling it over his face hoping to stop the screams.
I worked on Sunday from 7:30 a.m. until 8:30 p.m. and was exhausted when I got home. All I wanted was a little quality time with my grandson and a nice hot bath after an episode of Game of Thrones. I didn't even read a chapter of my books before falling asleep. Round about 2 a.m., all hell broke lose. Swifty started to cry and no one could find his bottle. He cried, he drank, he shit and he burped. An hour later, Swifty is up and crying again. Austin is tearing all the sheets off of his bed looking for something when I come in the room. His sister is helping him look for something too. I said, "What are you looking for?" But, Austin can't answer me because he's panicked almost to the point of hyperventilating. I can clearly see the magnetic bottle and the magnetic diaper beside the carseat. So I ask again, this time with more authority, "What are you looking for?!" Meanwhile, Swifty is screaming. To which Alex yells at me, "He can't describe it! Obviously! Stop asking him!" I tried to explain that Austin clearly had a case of "baby brain" because there was NOTHING missing. Alex stomped back to her room and shut the door. Austin came to his senses and managed to calm Swifty with a diaper change after 5 more minutes of inhuman screeching.
At 4 a.m., I wake up to more screams that have been going on for about 5 minutes at least. I'm pretty sure I can hear Austin crying, too. As I jump out of bed, I scream, "Give me that goddamn thing! I'll rip its fucking head off myself!" Alex is already in Austin's room and she blocks the door so I can't take the machine and MAKE it shut up with my bare hands. Austin is frantically rocking Swifty back and forth while he has a 20 minute "fussy" time. I bury my head under my pillows and pretend that this is all just another bad dream.
At 5 a.m., Swifty is crying again. I walk into Austin's room, grab the doll from his carseat (careful of his damned neck), grab Austin's wrist and scan the baby's back. At this point, I've decided I will sleep after Swifty has returned to a nice box in the closet at the highschool. I change his shitty ass, but I can tell there's more to come because he's not doing that peaceful, rhythmic breathing that he does when he's not about to get all "Old Testament" and start raining fire or calling on locusts. Sure enough, we do another scan and he drinks a bottle for 15 minutes while I watch Totally Spies on Teletoon. Still no rhythmic breathing. Scan again. This time, it's patting and rocking until he burps 10 minutes later.
Later that day (because we slept in after Swifty "timed out" at 6 a.m.) I drove Austin to school. I said, "If you EVER think about not using a condom, I want you to think back to this morning and the hell that was Swifty Pringle."
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