Much to my shock and horror, the number of babies in my life is starting to multiply and thankfully none of them will be made up of my DNA or rely on my full time care giving anytime soon. But, the baby-tastic-ness that was this weekend jammed this harsh reality down my throat: We are 25, 26, 27, 28 years old, we're getting married, we're having babies (not necessarily in that order and that's OK) and sometimes even on PURPOSE, we're by far "old enough" and "qualified" to do such things, that's the natural flow of life and we better just get used to it. Oh holy shit...
Saturday evening was spent with my No. 1 baby, Miss Remi. I always feel like I'm "Oooing and Ahhing" over her constantly because I truly believe she's an advanced and highly intelligent child. She's just such a charismatic little shit. I saw this personality start to develop long before she could communicate with words and now just a few months shy of 2-years-old, it's larger than life.
Everytime I go over to my sister and brother-in-law's house, she's doing something that makes me go, 'wait, you're not supposed to know how to to do that yet,' such as have the motor skills to hold a crayon and color in a coloring book.
First I was shown a device relating to one of her most recent triumphs - her faux flushing, musical, talking potty chair. Yes, apparently they do such things now, which is sort of terrifying, although not quite as terrifying as the toilets that spray your ass with water as an alternative to wiping. Gross.
She then lead me to her plastic picnic table in the living room where she proceeded to literally and repeatedly slap six or seven little Jayhawk stickers on her chest and proclaim "all gone!" while flinging the blank sticker sheet into the air all before I could snatch them away from her impressionable eyes and burn them. I did however teach her to point at the sticker and say, "fake bird."
Then the coloring commenced while we chatted about the finer things in life such as what color each crayon was and the difference between Elmo, Big Bird and Cookie Monster in the books. I'm anxious to watch as our conversations evolve from crayons and Sesame Street charaters to school, hopes and dreams and world politics. At the rate she's going, we'll have all that covered by the time she's 6, and I just have to hope that I and the world grow just as fast as she does.
And with a new activity comes a new adorable behavior such as feeding Lucie Liu the black Lab crayons, which she gladly gobbles up since colored wax and paper covered in grubby toddler fingerprints never tasted so good or made the backyard so colorful.
Kate and I dragged our asses out of bed at the crack of noon Sunday to attend the baby shower of Sarah, one of our sorority sisters and somebody I've known since before kindergarten. It's surreal when your childhood friend decides to take on such adult responsibility like marriage and children especially when you've seen them at every stage of their life, from second grade cake walks at the Blackbob School fair, gymnastics and cheerleading, to heading off to college and yanking her drunk ass off the top bunk in a sleeping dorm during a frat party our freshman year.
This shower was surprisingly painless. Unlike some where you're required to play games with smashed up candy bars and diapers when you'd rather be doing more productive things with your life like scrubbing toilets or walking over hot coals, this one was eat food, open presents, eat cake, leave - my kind of baby shower - and Sarah just tore through the gifts too, making it go even more quickly. While everyone else showered her with cards and gifts of "sweet little girl" and "Heaven sent," Kate and I carefully chose a card that showed the same picture of a baby screaming over and over again with different "moods" printed above each picture and a bag that had the words, "Who needs sleep?" under a photo of a wide eyed baby because we're THOSE friends. You know, the asshole kind that are like, 'bundle of joy my ass. Have fun the with the pooping, barfing, screaming machine.' Plus, we had the cutest baby gift - a little K-State cheerleader outfit. We totally win.
The last time we saw Sarah was right after we found out she was preggers on 4th of July (in which we replied, wait, you meant to do that?) and she told us tales of vomiting in an Applebee's parking lot and using baked potatoes and milk as weapons against her husband, Jeff. Oh hormones, just when we thought we were through the worst of you once puberty ended, we decide to get pregnant and find you make us resort to violence with food.
This time she told us how she had to use her purse as a barf bag in a Mexican restaurant because she couldn't make it to the bathroom, then how Jeff went to throw it away in the men's bathroom only to have to go back, fish the purse back out of the trash and retrieve her cell phone. Sarah also made a trip back to the trashed purse as they were leaving to find her keys. Pregnancy just sounds fucking awesome, doesn't it?
Only slight weight gain seems to be the trend with the pregnant women around me rather than blimping out like a beached whale, yet knowing this only slightly eases my irrational fear that while pregnant, my ass will grow to epic proportions. I'll be normal everywhere else with a little basketball belly then *WAH-BAM* montrous ass the size and shape of Mount Rushmore that takes up the entire width of an aisle in the grocery store. Oh god, please no...
Immediately after the shower, we headed to Shaunna and Andrew's house to hang out with this guy:
And, in case you're wondering, he is indeed posing for the camera, so I can only be given slight credit for my kick ass photography skills.
I remember when Shaunna told Kate she was pregnant and Kate was like, 'Um, wait, you're, like, happy this has happened?' Now, we've watched him grow to almost a year old, Shaunna and Andrew are gettting married in April (Kate, the maid of honor and I, a bridesmaid) and it just doesn't seem like the big fiasco it once did at all. In fact, it all seems strangely...normal. Imagine that, giving birth, raising children and getting married, all perfectly acceptable events in the lives of humans seeming normal. I just never thought this day would come. Of course, these are the lives of others we're talking about here. I'm still "oh no fucking way" about the whole thing when it involves me.
We sat on the floor while Peyton entertained us with his constant single-toothed grin and the fastest and most amazing Army crawl I've ever seen. The kid slithers across the floor like a snake and can get from one side of the room to the other in 2 seconds flat - something I'm sure mom and dad are thrilled about - but made me crack up every time. He's a perfect example of how we can learn from babies and rather than giving in and buying all the expensive toys and clothes advertised all over the place, we should be enjoying the simple things in life. In Peyton's world, a high chair doubles as a jungle gym, the coffee table is a tunnel to crawl through and nothing makes a tastier teething ring than a tube of chapstick.
Hooray for mom's toothbrush!