Little Ones [ 2005-10-31, 7:12 p.m. ]

I told my friend S that we'd be at her apartment between 10 and 10:30 on Sunday morning to meet her new baby. At 10:05, she called, wondering if we'd gotten lost. No, I said, we're on our way, we'll be there in about 20 minutes. After I hung up Kent asked, Do you think she remembered that the time changed? Ohhhhh, I said, probably not, because I am pretty sure she can barely remember her name at this point.

We were at her door by 10:30, and she greeted us with half-buttoned shirt and baby curled up in fuzzy sling-contraption-baby-sack thing. She said she was worried we got lost getting to their new apartment. I gently asked her if she knew the time changed the previous night. She looked at me blankly and blinked. Wait, what time is it, she asked?

She passed the sleeping baby to me, and her husband said, So we're going out, we should be back in no more than a week...

Of course we knew he was kidding. Mostly.

We sat with them and passed the fat little baby back and forth and she nursed him and he barfed on her and she changed her shirt and he barfed on the other shirt and she gave the baby to her husband and he barfed on his dad's shirt, and then S put him back in the fuzzy sling-contraption-baby-sack-thing and he fell asleep and we all went for a walk and had brunch and I swilled my Bloody Mary in an effort to quell conflicting emotions dueling in vacinity of my uterus. BABIES ARE CUTE AND TENDER was pummelling NO SLEEP CRIES A LOT, while BIOLOGICAL CLOCK sat in the corner and banged head on wall.

But look!! Wee little man! Already worrying about taxes and job security and learning to ride a bike! With furrowed brow! Because being a baby is hard!

This is what I would look like if I were a mom:

(Except I would be totally fat and wearing sweats and as soon as someone else came to visit me I would hand them the baby and run for the bathroom and the sweet relief of a shower. Which is not to say that my friend S did not look beautiful. She looked like a lovely earth mother and absolutely glowed with whatever maternal woowoo energy comes out of your privates along with squirmy 8 pound human. But she also looked like she wanted a nap more than anyone has ever wanted anything.)

This is what Kent would look like if he were a dad:

(Except he would be totally terrified of the fat lady in sweats crying for a shower, and rather than holding baby and smiling he would be hiding in the laundry room under the guise of “helping with housework” while I screamed and ranted and cursed every skinny bitch with a wee little bump under her Cadeau and Pumpkin and Liz Lange maternity outfits.)

One baby is enough for now:







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