My sister is expecting her second baby within the next week or so.
She’s being really quiet about the whole thing, but I remember being THAT pregnant, and I just know she’s really looking forward to Not Being Pregnant Anymore. She’s very beautiful and gracious about it, though. Unlike me at that time in my life, she glows. She smiles joyfully. Her skin isn’t all blotchy. And you know she’s gonna drop that weight in like 45 minutes flat.
It would all be perfect and idyllic, if not for one tiny little glitch in the whole event: our mother.
Our mother is A BIT self-involved, to put it mildly. And she’s not really fond of GERMS. She loves being the ‘Nana’ in a romantic old-fashioned classical literature kind of way, but I suspect she’s really looking forward to when she’s a Nana to OLDER children. The kind that don’t need diapers, and always flush, and wash their hands, and don’t come at you covered in unidentifiable sticky stuff.
So, she’s really looking forward to seeing the new baby, but I suspect she’d really prefer to see the new baby in a clean-room while wearing a germ-proof suit like Dustin Hoffman wore in that movie about the Ebola virus.
Because our mother is so fussy about GERMS And The Babies That Carry Them, my sister and her husband have WISELY asked me to be the Point Of Contact for this big event. So, pretty soon, I’ll be getting a call and jumping into my minivan with my kids to drive like mad across the Delaware to babysit my little niece while her mom is busy producing her little brother (or sister) and her daddy is busy helping her mom produce said sibling.
This arrangement will work out nicely. It will allow my sister and her husband to concentrate fully on the birth process knowing that the person watching their other child won’t stuff her full of sugar at the drop of a hat, and will actually change a dirty diaper if necessary instead of letting it sit and Pretending The Poop Didn’t Happen.
My sister and my brother-in-law will also rest easy in the knowledge that I will not try to move in with their family (rent free) at any given moment, that I will not lift any spare change I find under the couch cushions (not to mention any tens, twenties or VISA check cards I ’accidentally’ come across while digging through their desk drawers), and that I will not peruse their personal mail or diaries. Sadly, my mother is prone to these types of behavior.
I’ll probably just order in some pizza, watch a whole lot of Elmo with my niece and my daughters, make some popcorn just because it’s SO HYSTERICAL to watch my little niece actually eat popcorn, and maybe do a little laundry if I come across it. And then at some point, I’ll cry when they bring home their new little baby and take a BAZILLION pictures and post them all here (if they say it’s okay) so you can oooh and ahhh and cry with me.
Welcome to Baby-Watch 2007!
Oh, I hope everything goes well for everyone. I’d love to see baby pictures.
Aren’t families fun?? We have to lock everything up when my mom comes over. Not because she’ll take it, but because she’ll read it. Everything. Anything. Phone bill (two days late!?) OBGYN statement, “a biopsy of WHAT?” If it’s not paper, she’ll ask to borrow it or just gush over it ’til you feel guilty for not offering it to her to borrow or have. I’m getting better, though. She wants my couch, and I’m not budging.
Andie, how did I miss answering this comment?
I’m sorry to hear your mom is one of THOSE types, but then again, I’m kinda not sorry, because each time I hear of a mom like this, I can say to myself: I’m Not Alone.
Don’t budge on that couch!
Okay, this is gonna sound DUMB as all hell, but here goes:
Someone named Michael Smith left a comment on this post saying that he “liked my blog and has bookmarked it accordingly”. I would have immediately approved Michael for more commenting, but for the fact that I’m not sure if he’s spamming me or not. The reason I’m not sure is because all of his contact info points to a website that sells boots.
Michael, if your intention was good (eg: not spam), I APOLOGIZE from the bottom of my bottomless heart for insinuating that you were spamming me. Please comment again, if you wish, and tell me what a paranoid fool I am for thinking you a spammer. I will hang my head in shame and dedicate an entire post to a formal apology if you wish.
If, however, you were spamming me, all I can say is: pretty clever, dude. But not clever enough.
This really comes down to me being so new to blogging. I don’t know how to handle ambiguous possible-spam comments. Sorry about that. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
- RM