4 little things that make my ovaries flip

There won't be any little boos in my future for quite some time, but I seem to be surrounded by babies right now. One of my best friends is teetering toward her winter due date and several other loved ones have just become new parents, too.

And I do love the babies. Not the baby showers, but I do love the babies. And I love shopping for babies (and mamas, too). I love the soft, sweetness of the clothing and all the over-protective OCDness of the gear. I love the registries packed full of shit that the parents will never, ever use and the heinous, cutesy animal prints that somehow continue to make their way on to everything for a newborn that could possibly be covered in fabric.

I admit that, on occasion when I am picking out an infant's first pair of "shoes," I consider buying an extra pair to stash away for the one-day baby I hope to maybe possibly perhaps have. But then I think better of it (now), since I already have a huge basement storage space (which is actually three rooms) full of plastic bins of eensy stuff that was once Lil E's. And also because I am pretty sure there will be shelves and shelves and sites and stores full of must-have squealable baby stuff if I ever do choose to have another one.

Having another baby does not only cross my mind. It comes up frequently for Lil E, who looks on with a slightly sad and utterly blissful smile at the new (and newish) siblings of all of his friends). He desperately wants a baby brother or sister and that, I completely understand. I've never really believed in having only one child (for myself), and I want him to have the blessing of a sibling just as I have.

We've talked about it. A lot. We've discussed how, one day, maybe we will welcome another baby into our home. We've had several conversations about how that we won't have that baby with his daddy and that moving into two homes made that all a little more complicated. He's even told me which toys he is excited to share with a little brother or sister and what he wants to teach them. He begins sentences regularly with, "And a long time from now, when we DO have a baby here in this house, then..." 

That little bit of lust, mixed with just enough selfishness for the rhythm we have now and the territorialness of the time and adventures and tough stuff only he and I get, I completely relate to, I totally understand. So for now, we will keep that thought of a someday potential we'll see baby right there in "a long time from now."

Until then, I will channel all my baby cravings into gifts for the other little boos in our life. One ovary-flipping present wrapped in aqua blue netting at a time.

This bassinet could make me consider co-sleeping. Well, if across the room or down the hall can count as co-sleeping. What baby wouldn't be thrilled to be colicky in that gorgeous cage?

This sling makes me long for those baby-toting days of yore. I carried Lil E in a sling until he was about 2-1/2 and it made flying, walking to playgroup, cruising through the grocery store and even being out to lunch as naptime crept around so much more comfortable and relaxed. My mom and I just picked this pattern out (five baby carriers later, my original Hotsling is still my fave) for my cousin. The picture doesn't do it justice. It's just gorgeous and even makes ginormous breastfeeding boobs and urp-stained tees look amazing.

This kimono set makes my inner feminist activist raise a Sharpie marker poster board sign and fist to the sky. Finally! A baby layette that isn't blue, pink or pale yellow. Or even sage green, for the love of instilled gender stereotyping from day one. This one's listed as a "boy kimono" but forget that. If I have a daughter one day, she is so going to rock the black and white at Mommy & Me Yoga, thank you very much.

These little knit shoes make those creepy Santa suits in 0-3 month sizes look...well, even creepier. Stop zipping your babies up in fake velour and let them stay all snuggy in onesies and jammies and these Baby Janes. These are perfect for newborns who arrive after the holiday hoopla and these will probably annoy the hell out of the infant child, but at least you will be entertained by taking thousands of digital pictures of their crabby face as they try to reach those flowery things on their feet.

[photo credit: Willo boutique / Etsy.com]

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Just when you thought your own family was really effed up

Since Lil E was with his dad and Thanksgiving came on Wednesday for us, I celebrated the holiday with my parents the way family gatherings should -- silent and in the dark.

That's right, we went to the movies. And since Lil E's dad one-upped me by a weekend by taking the boy to see Madagascar 2, we opted to go totally adult in our cinematic choice and picked out Rachel Getting Married at an indie theater we hadn't been to in years.

Have you seen this movie? Oh, you must. You really must.

It is the heartbreaking and funny and very real story of a women who comes out of rehab and home for her sister's wedding. Anne Hathaway is about as faraway from a princess as you can imagine, and plays a narcissistic, hopeful, full-hearted, lost addict in recovery beautifully. The rest of the cast, who you may not know by name but will certainly recognize, stand up to her and with her in the complicated, awkward and lovely way you will also recognize whether your family is familiar with addiction or not.

And my family, God love us all, know a bit about addiction. So we sat there in the theater and laughed and teared up and took it on like families familiar with this sort of stuff are supposed to do in the dark.

If you've never been in a 12-step meeting, know that the one in this movie is on point. And if you've been in one, maybe you will giggle or sigh at how on point it is. Around all the addiction is amazing live music, dancing and colors -- of fabric and lighting and people -- that are breath-taking and made me realize how white-washed so many movies I see are.

As tough as it was to watch all the arguments and years-old issues unwind on the big screen, the rawness of it was also comforting to me. It just felt soothing to me to see that all put out there and projected so honestly, so large. And even better, to not have to participate in any of it, just observe, appreciate, cry if I needed to, laugh when it was that real.

Maybe you will have a bonus day of your own, maybe you will get a chance to see something adult, to put aside your own family issues, to sit back, to watch someone else's (fictional) family put their own issues out there, up there. If so, watch. You must watch.

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Obligatory holiday photos (you know you want to see them)

We began by making pie, just like my Grandma Alice and I did when the recipes rolled out of her hands before she call the measurements out to me.

Lil E loves to  crank the apple peeler. And he loves to eat the "circle apple" spirals.


I love the apple peeler because it just looks so sweetly ribboned and beautiful.




We rolled out the dough using the recipe my grandmother relied upon. Pillsbury's pre-made dough will pass, she always said, but she always recommended a fabulous, flaky, homemade crust as the preferred foundation for the pie. And really, it's easier than I think it will be every year.


Next, the pie is filled with the apple mixture and generous pats of butter, covered with the top crust, crimped, vented and decorated. Our recipe calls for a cold water brush on the crust to prevent burning and melted butter to glaze and secure the decorative dough. Mine was a daisy-type sunshiney thing.


Bake. Cool. Get anxious to slice into it after dinner. We also baked a little one-cruster for Lil E to share with his dad on Thanksgiving Day.

Look at the meringue on my mom's banana cream pie. So it didn't set up right and it turned out more like banana pudding with pretty topping and crust. No worries. Nobody cared. We just ate it happily with a spoon.


Obligatory table shot. Check out my mama's pumpkin floral centerpiece (go Mom!). Do not look for my sweet potatoes in balsamic reduction. They are in a dish in the sink, passed up in a fit of frustration. We didn't miss them. Nor did we miss the stuffing, which we forgot in the oven. Our plates were that full and we had that much fun...nothing was missed.


The real bird's eye view, courtesy Lil E.

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