Melissa's Place

The Christmas of Pregnancies

I am not. But nearly all the twenty-something and thirty-something's uterus’ I know, are otherwise occupied. No Vacancy.

For Christmas, my sister bought me a hair straightener and a FitPregnancy magazine, just for fun. And, Mary, it was fun! I even read it.

Then Delia came over for a games night and squealed “Why do you have THAT?” So I passed it on to her because I’d read it all.
But honestly, it WAS fun, Mary.

Anyway, three of my four bridesmaids are pregnant. Two are pregnant with their second children. And one other friend of mine sent me an e-mail that she’s due in August. Another girlfriend from University, is coming over for some Poker or Settlers of Catan next week with her wee one.

I find I’ve got babies on the brain.
And though none of them share with me an abundance of common alleles, I do get to hold them and spoil them and teach them songs, simply by association. And no one expects me to clean diapers or hold them when they cry or when they do squishy, rocketing diarrhea poops. If I do any of those things, I am instantly a very, very nice person (versus being a parent when it is just that you are not being negligent). I get to learn about how boobs leak and how bodies change without having to actually do any of it yet. And, incidentally, I get to sleep through the night and I can walk around the grocery store with a teeny-tiny cute purse instead of a fifteen gallon diaper bag. I get to ooh and aah over baby clothes whenever I choose, but don’t yet have to spend a single penny on expanding-waist-band jeans or maternity underwear (which I’ve only recently learn exist). No, it’s just not my turn yet. And I'm totally zen with that.

So how to celebrate their good fortune as well as my own?
Well, I’m quilting like a mad woman.
Garth is keeping me company tonight.
And I’m toasting those lucky ladies with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice (just because I can).