Babies.
Today’s theme has manifested in the form of babies.
My long-standing admiration and appreciation for soft & cuddly canines is quickly starting to translate over into the little human sector too.
Throughout my life, the miniature people in onesies never put my uterus into a tizzy. I simply enjoy them from a safe distance — as an Aunt by blood and by choice. Aunt Mimi loves to hold, caress and kiss the cutie pies, and then immediately return to sender.
While 99% of my female peers’ anatomy alarm clocks were ringing for the last decade, mine stood stagnant & silent. When most kick off their career in the early teen years, I didn’t begin babysitting until my late twenties. Who does that? Then something clicked and in the year 2010, slowly but surely, my observation of their surrounding presence began to make me want one closer, more permanently attached to my hip. Preferably a spawn that I produced.
Because my anti-baby syndrome lasted for much longer than ever anticipated, solely based on friends’ desires and the ticking timebomb coming from their tummies, the obvious absence began to make me wonder if perhaps I was missing the Mom gene. But now I know that isn’t the case.
This morning started out by thinking of my very first nephew and Godson who turned 13 today. I flipped through memory lane beginning with 1997 in the photo album that I made as a keepsake to track the first years of his life.
Then I reflected on Oprah’s show that I watched last night on DVR about a man who made a documentary called Babies. He spent one whole year filming 4 babies from all across the globe and made it into a movie. There is no dialogue, speaking, or voiceovers. You simply get to watch the pureness and magic that are infants — and discover that no matter what country you reside in or what language you speak — we’re all the same at that age.
In the afternoon, I finally mustered up the discipline to get up off my ass and head to Babies R Us. There is a baby shower scheduled for the morning and a diminishing registry was calling my name. Notoriously, always, without fail, I wait until the very last second to make a purchase from these lists. Sure I’m a professional procrastinator, but by now I should have learned my lesson: Wait & You Will Pay. Meaning, the most random items are leftover, leaving me with a hodgepodge of products to wrap in a bow. Giftgiving is traditionally a talent of mine ~ pinpointing the perfect present seemingly custom-manufactured just for that person. But in the case of any and all celebratory showers, I fail miserably.
After waiting my turn in the check-out line surrounded by bright colored Fisher Price packaging and tiny toes sticking out of strollers, a young lady manning the register clearly knew I was not purchasing for myself…seeing as though I had a printed registry in one hand and a roll of baby blue wrapping paper in the other, yet she still asked if I wanted to activate a frequent buyer rewards program card. Although it felt like just another moment to tuck away into my “That was like taking a bullet” bag, I was able to stop and think rationally for a second: That is something I should have applied for about 24 showers ago! Damnit.
Inevitably during times like these, I always-always playback the Sex & the City episode where Carrie is seen in a montage scene checking out at various registries over the years. She eventually registers for her own singlehood shower, at Manolo, of course. These two quotes from the show will never, ever get old.
“Let’s be honest. Sometimes there is nothing harder in life than being happy for somebody else. Like lottery winners. Or extremely successful people who are 27. And then there’s that hell on earth that only your closest friends can inflict on you — the baby shower.”
“Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn’t one occasion where people celebrate you…Hallmark doesn’t make a “congratulations, you didn’t marry the wrong guy” card. And where’s the flatware for going on vacation alone?”
According to scientific studies & research, I have exactly four more years left until my eggs start dying out on me. Well correction. Until my odds will skyrocket of experiencing major complications both to get preggers and/or conceive a Grade A healthy baby.
But a lot can happen over the next 1,460 days. When the time does eventually come to take hold of the retailer’s gun, frolic up and down the aisles, and scan away at my heart’s desire to create a haute couture printable purchase order for others to activate, you better believe [from someone who shops as a sport] that the shower party will be epic. And the registry wish list will be extensive, to make sure everyone on the long guest list has options…you know who you are.
So go right ahead, book your babysitter now.
