Many years ago, before I was a parent, much less a grandparent, a friend of mine described the "not the mama" phenomenon. A baby, content in mom or dad's arms, is passed to a friend or relative. Maybe there is an initial uncertain smile. Then a pout. Sometimes tears. Why? Nothing personal, but you simply are "not the mama." When a moment, day or month is confusing, we might turn to a number of things for comfort. TV, a book, a beverage, a cigarette. The comfort doesn't last. Why? It's not God.