More Importantly*

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh!’ he whispered. ‘Yes, Piglet?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.’”~A.A. Milne

I don’t have sisters. My father’s potent – I say potent because there are four of us – sperm could only produce men and well, me. I’m on my third sister in law and when I was younger I’d get excited and attached only to become woefully disappointed in the end. Now that I’m older it’s another woman for my brothers and another day of the week. They don’t receive some full on approval topped off with love and devotion. Call me cynical on the idea of marriage – which I am – but it’s no longer a big deal nor a beautiful thing.

It’s not that I’m a bitch it’s just I don’t want to put all of my eggs in one basket and I like white weddings with happy endings. Though I know that at least one of my brothers has found such, I remain skeptical. So my dream of a sister (seriously, I BEGGED) is for naught.

In San Francisco Leah and I were discussing babies as the conversation often turns to with so many of my Lovelies. Over the last three and a half years I’ve learned more about parenting and that deep, never-ending love for a child who pukes on you and it’s this beautiful, not necessarily reciprocal arrangement. At least not for a few months. But for now they give you a smile and it’s a heart melting, chill inducing thing that makes a female still say YES! I WOULD STILL LOVE TO HAVE BABIES WHO VOMIT ON MY FRESHLY CLEANED JEANS.

I love my friends’ children. And it isn’t bullshit or just because they will read this but because I love them because these women have become like family to me and their children are an extension of them so despite puke and random shoving and screaming “YOU MUST LEAVE” (I’m paraphrasing there), I love these children with a fierceness because I love their mothers.

Leah said that I’m like that little sister who has yet to have a baby. But if/when I do (God willing) I’ll be able to go back to them and say, “Oh my hell, this mother fucker is projectile vomiting/pooping up his back/screaming like a banshee/WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CANNOT DRINK?!?!?” and they will be understanding and say, “Yeah we know. Remember when you made fun of me? Well know it’s your turn, sucka”. And then they’ll laugh but be understanding and tell me that I’m fine and my kid won’t die and I’m normal. Period.

As I write, Leah is having her son and the waiting is killing me because I know that it’s going on. So this is a missive to them, my friends, The Lovelies: WAITING SUCKS. And knowing when you are in labor/going to have a baby is awful because I spend my afternoons/evenings pacing and drinking and waiting and nervously tapping and being really fucking annoying by texting you. But know that I do it out of love and caring and because my ovaries aren’t being used for anything productive but when I do finally give in and have offspring (God help us all) just know that I won’t make you suffer. Maybe.

*More Importantly because I still haven’t announced the Wii and Wii Fit winner but there is one and you will know by some time tonight.**

**Also there was some wine involved in this post (can you tell?) and tears because in the middle of writing I got a phone call from Leah and Simon and y’all need to see there brand new baby. So, so happy.