I’m feeling genuinely, 100 percent warm and fuzzy after going to a baby shower today for a good friend of mine. Normally – for a single militant non-parent like myself – these events are (let’s face it) not all that much fun since they always involve lots of stories about labor and (ugh) squatting and breastfeeding and things that I cannot in any way identify with. Usually I end up smiling politely and laughing at the right times (“….And I said to him, don’t tell me to push, buddy!” Ha ha ha….ugh) wondering when I can go back home to my apartment and order some Tandoori Chicken to eat during the Simpsons. But this time was different.
This time I couldn’t help but bask in the glow of my friend and her wee one. She was beautiful. And terrified. And excited. And overwhelmed. And so, so happy. And seeing her hold up a tiny pink velvety little footy pajama thing against her big belly just filled me with joy. I felt so proud and giddy and protective and happy for her and her husband and her little muffin-to-be. I just can’t wait to meet the little creature that’s going to be coming in a few weeks.