A good friend of mine is having a baby. Soon. It’s her first and she is excited and nervous and maybe a little naive about the whole thing. Weren’t we all? I remember thinking when Iwas pregnant with Kate (#1) that the less I knew about labor and the birthing process, the better I felt. There is bliss in ignornance…or is it ignornance in bliss? Either way, I just went about my merry ol’ way culling through Pottery Barn Kids catalogs, updating my registry and flipping through, “Beyond Jennifer and Jason.” Those were the “fun” things of pregnancy, right?
Being the faux-seasoned mom of two (I’m always learning and evolving…and gosh darn it, so are those kids!) , I have been invited to several baby showers of late. I really don’t know much more than I did the first time around, but it’s fun to go to to the showers and sort of be nostalgic for those sweet times.
I have a quandry, though. I am no longer cute. I just feel like the harried minivan, library bag toting, Hamberger-Helper mom who flits about town in her yoga pants and hair pulled back into a clip. But it is a shiny, sequined clip.
So, I went shopping. I bought a new dress. I got some new jewlery. Let me say I deliberated over the jewlery counter waaay too long and the poor woman who offered her help was probably sorry she did. I looked for new shoes, but I didn’t like what I found. So, I’ll wear my old ones. They’ll work. But I need to do something about my toes. They look horrible. And those heels of mine…ugh…could sand a piece of raw wood with those babies! Cuticles are bad…dirt under the nails from planting flowers this morning and stained purple-y red from pitting fresh cheeries straight from Michigan for a cheery almond bundt cake I so Betty Crocker-like whipped up from scratch. Whew–how do I do it all??! So, I have a mani/pedi scheduled for tomorrow morning after I drop the nuggets off at summer “camp.” Nice. Can’t wait. They have great massage chairs.
But the point is this: I find it so very ironic that I am getting beautified to go to baby shower. Where the “fun” is about to begin for my good friend. Sure, having a baby is a wondress miracle of sorts. I loved every bit of being pregnant (o.k, most) and holding that little cherub in my arms for the first time. Soon Tara will have that same experience. It’s fabulous. Really. But soon the only time Tara has to get all dolled up will be when she is going to another baby shower. And there is part of me that feels a little depressed about that whole concept. Let’s get pretty and have fun to welcome in a new member of the world who will do nothing in the first year or so except get us dirty and ugly. Hummm… and when we finally do have the energy to feel pretty again, we are so far from that feeling it’s not even funny.
Tara, if you are reading this…you know I can’t wait! And really, it’s not that bad.