New Patch for My Sash

If there was such a thing as a patch sash for Mommyhood, I would have earned a new one tonight:
The Cop Visit badge.
Yes. Someone called the cops because they were concerned for the welfare of my baby, who was screaming with a rough case of stranger anxiety and exhaustion. The badge would be dark green with light brown stitching of the profile of a police officer, with cursive little "Waaaaas" in the background.
I jest so that I won't scream in anger. Or cry.

John and I went to dinner at our Vaguely Urban friend's house and left Baby Z with Aunt E and Uncle R. We were a little worried since Baby Z responded to seeing his Uncle by erupting into a body-shaking cry. But he calmed down before we left and we knew that Uncle and Auntie could handle a little crying. Apparently our neighbor cannot.

So our sweet, long suffering babysitters had the pleasure of answering the door to a police officer. Thankfully, he was very nice and didn't seem to take the accusation too seriously. He came in and checked on Baby Z, who was, again thankfully, sound asleep in his crib. Aunt E and Uncle R took it all in stride and didn't even call us in the middle of our night (again, again, thankfully!).

Baby Z was crying off and on for about 45 minutes to an hour, while they tried to settle him down and feed him his bottle. What can I say- that boy can scream. I admit it can be disconcerting at the very least. He's especially good at rolling his tongue into a rolling R kind of scream. And our windows were open. And we have a new neighbor who moved in just a few days ago, so I guess she hadn't heard Baby Z's full repertoire yet. At least, I'm guessing it was her, since our other neighbors have certainly heard this sort of thing before, and they know us, and know there is nothing to be concerned about.

Well, I'm trying very hard to be Christianly about it and take this as an opportunity to introduce myself to our new neighbor. I'll just sachet over there with a plate of cookies and my healthy, smiling baby on my hip. I should also give her the benefit of the doubt and think that it might not have been her, or that she might have just been seriously concerned about the baby, given her only information is an hour of crying. (And I'm fighting, oh, I'm fighting the thought that she called just 'cause she was irritated by the noise. Lord help me.