There comes a time in the life of the average woman when she is forced to accept the fact that she will never again hold a newborn of her own. It’s all part of the process of living and dying. And some come through this quicker than others. I, personally, have been going baby withdrawal for several years. I actually have dreams! One main recurring dream, really. I call it my ‘find-a-baby’ dream. Used to be I’d find my own baby (whom I had somehow misplaced apparently. Those of you who know me will not find this unimaginable!). I’d spend the rest of the dream how-could-you-ing myself and wake up on a total guilt trip! The next dream-phase, I’d find someone else’s baby (under a bed, under water, one appeared on a large red and white picnic blanket one time) and take care of him as my own. I’d spend the rest of the dream running around to find infant formula and nest-ie things! Those dreams always had happy endings but I never got to name the baby. (Those of you who have the proper psychological term for this, please don’t share it!) My latest dream-phase has been animals.(Be kind!) I found a litter of Golden Labs puppies once, and Caspian (our older male dog) somehow produced many little Caspians (please don’t ask!).

So you will rejoice with me when I tell you I have finally found my real life rebound-Mom infant! A tiny baby finch! He fell out of his nest yesterday.
Dave and I did some quick research and decided to attempt the impossible and hand-raise him. We spent the rest of the evening running around to find infant bird formula and nest-ie things.
He is beautiful! 0 lbs.2 oz., 3 “long. He has black feather-ettes, white bushy down eyebrows, and red bone-drawn skin! He’s doing fine and eats every 3 hours.

I think I’ll call him Harry.