Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of . . . WAIT! WHAT!?!?!?

I was going to blog about these amazing Cheetos (Jalapeño flavor) that I can only find at the vending machine at work, and how I have been on a mission to hunt them down elsewhere. Having cheesy fingers and potential residue arount your face because you eat like a five year old (or most grown men) isn't exactly a sure fire way to a promotion. Not to mention the crunching sound that comes from your cube every other day at 3:47pm. So I've been trying to find them off company grounds.

I'll save that gem for another time. There's something a little more  . . . intense that is on my brain. Allow me to begin:

So this happened this weekend:

which then caused this thought to happen:

followed by a panic which brought about this solution:

Now. before I get massive texts, emails, calls, calls to my mother, calls to my pastor, etc., let me explain.

Firstly, that cutie patootie that I am holding in the photo is by best friend's niece. She is absolutely stunning. I never realized how precious newborns are.

Secondly, everybody who knows me is well aware that I swore off having children years ago after I saw a youtube video on giving birth. Also, because the idea of having some one's life in my hands and the opportunities to screw them up was something I wasn't too crazy about pursuing. And finally, because I love to sleep late.

That said, within the last year, I've noticed some, um, not so pleasant reactions to baby crap. For example, not to long ago I went into Target at 10:30pm, with 30 minutes to spare because I ran out of detergent. I was one day away from using my Bath and Body works handsoap to do laundry if I didn't get detergent right then and there. Could I have gone to the local drug store? Sure. But Target is way cheaper and who doesn't love a late night visit to Target?

Anywho, I was skipping around the store applauding the fact that the crisis at hand had been averted when somehow, I ended up near the baby section. Normally, I run the other way, or make a dash for the purse section right across the baby stuff, and I was about to, when all of a sudden, my eye caught the following:

Usually I would just glance and mosey along. However, that evening, holding a bulk bottle of Tide (with bleach alternative), I found myself . . . getting warm. On my face. Near my eyes. Then, without any notice, I started to well up. Cry! Like a bitch! I mean, I wasn't sobbing or anything, but there was definitely sniffles, and, possibly, a whimper.

WTF?!?!?!? I had never EVER had a reaction to a piece of clothing (well, maybe when bell bottoms made an appearance in the early nineties). I certainly have never had any kind of reaction like that when it comes to baby stuff. I knew I needed a quick fix to get over this bizarre moment. I did what any adult would do in a time of crisis. I bought myself a snickers bar.

And that helped 100%! I paid for my Tide (with bleach alternative) and headed home. I chalked up that crazy reaction to my die-hard dedication to the Mets, and how awful they are, and pms, and never gave it another thought. I have, on occassion, used this story to entertain my friends during happy hours, dinners, and phone calls. Everybody got a laugh out of it! So I decided to laugh it off, too!

Until this weekend. I went up to VA to see my best friend and her family. Her niece had just been born so we went to visit her. I had no plans to hold the little one, since some parents are super sensitive to that, and also, I can barely hold a can of Goya beans without dropping it, so for the safety of everybody, I was just gonna "goo-goo, gah-gah" the kid from afar.

The only problem was, I didn't expect to fall instantly in love with the baby. She is gorgeous. And teeny. And innocent cheeks like a cherub. So peaceful and vulnerable, and a part of a wonderful family, with two parents who were elated to have her here. It was all so unexpected for me to take in.

"Wanna hold her?", her pops asked. I usually respectfully decline, but I found myself getting elated butterflies in my belly and saying, slightly apprehensively, "Sure."   

As I got into position (my bff and her sister coaching me through hand placement, arm stability, and overall relaxation), I started to mildly panic. But there was no time to address it, because my bff placed the baby in my arms. And she melted in, like butter through the crevices of a baked potato. It was perfect.

"Hi, pudding!" was all I could say. Because, within seconds, that same warm feeling from that fateful Tuesday evening at Target started to invade my eyes. That lump in my throat started to grow and I felt my voice sink into my belly. Oh no! I thought. I couldn't do this here. I was surrounded by everybody in the room, and I knew I would be caught! Don't be that girl. Don't be that girl!!! I continued to think. You know what girl I am talking about:

The girl that I fear more than anything!! I usually can't bond very well with said girl. I've met many of them along my journey, and they are usually very lovely. But babies drown the very essence of their brain. In all capacities. With visions of baby showers, choosing names, and whether or not circumcision will happen already planned out!! I can barely plan out my outfit for the day! 

And suddenly, I felt Baby-Crazy Claudia evolving. And I let her be for about 7 minutes. I held back the tears and just smiled my ass off as I stared at this kid, who, not even a week old, had capativated a career woman from New York City.

I felt the spell wear off when I begin hearing the conversation around me. It was a conversation about feedings, pooping, labor incisions, formula testing, sleep, as in no sleep, as in no sleep ever again . . . 

"Here you go Auntie," I suddenly said, indicating that the baby should be picked up, so I could punch Baby-Crazy Claudia in the mouth, metaphorically speaking. My bff picked up the little lady from my arms and held her with such soothing second nature. The lump in my throat was coming back.


You see, my best friend is so many things. So many. I am in awe of her constantly for what she is. But one of the most incredibly components she possesses is motherhood. I've known Jay since we were five. FIVE YEARS OLD! She is, in some ways, my soul mate. If I never make a million dollars in my life, I will still say I won the lotto. Simply because of having her in my life. 

So to watch her be so comfortable with this newborn, adding to already having watched her feed her ten month old son while being captivated by his big brown eyes ,bringing about her ginormous smile that shows off her dimples, and also observing her unique bond with her 5 year old daughter, as they both negotiate childhood transactions, usually ending up with some sort of amusing outcome . . . it was all too much. Too beautiful. Too unbelievable.

It was time to go. Or I was about to have a crying competition with an infant.

For the rest of my time in Virginia, I thought a lot about the concept of having a baby. Jay was MORE than excited about this idea. Both she and her husband think I would be a great mom (I did remind them that I had yet to unpack my apartment and it had been 10 months, and, rumor has it, my eggplant in the fridge had simply just become a plant with a family of something inhabiting it). They seemed not to care of these facts. Jay even went so far as to pick the Sunday night movie that  just screamed coincidence: SWITCHED with Jennifer Aniston. A single career woman wanting to get knocked up. As she played it, I looked over at her, not amused mind you, and she looked at me with those big brown eyes her son inherited and let out a giggle her beautiful little girl inherited and said, "What?"

That's my Jay.

So here I am, back in New York, three days later, thinking about the emotional whirlwind of the weekend. Perhaps I should think about why I am blogging about this, on a weight loss blog. Well, see, I always thought if I ever was to get married and knocked up, I would be at a healthy goal weight with flat abs! Only because I would probably never see those flat abs again. I also fear getting enormous during my pregnancy, because I would give up my vegetarian lifestyle for the fetus and go ape shit on whoppers, breaded thin chicken cutlets, chicharron, my mother's cocacola marinated pernil, and Colombian empanadas. Because all that is WAYY healthier than being a vegetarian. Clearly.

Like I said, guys, I have NOOOOOOOO plans on getting pregnant right now. Possibly ever, perhaps. My brother-in-law said to me this weekend, "There's never the right time." And he has a point. Some of the people in my life that I love dearly were conceived during "pull-out" method intercourse. And I couldn't be more grateful. Accidental and unplanned babies are great. However, I'd like to at least prepare a little more if I am going to bring a kid into my life. 

For starters, I should probably unpack. And get on to those flat abs. See Patagonia. Participate in a bar-hopping Santa-Con event, dress up as a hoochie for Halloween (I came close one year, but it was really cold that evening), date a biker, etc. Perhaps I should revisit that infamous birth video on youtube  and decide if I really want to have that happen to, um, her. Me. Whatever.

Let me make one thing clear. This isn't about getting married or falling in love or anything like that. That concept is so independant from this, which is rather scary. I was raised by a single mom and, while she is the best mother anybody could ask for and has raised me to be the strong, brave, sappy, sincere, successful, yadda yadda yadda, person that I am, I know I probably could have experienced some very wonderful experiences that can only happen in a 2 parent household. 

That said, my parental plans/fantasies have no place for a pops. No Danny Tanner, no Nick Russo, no Tony Soprano (what? he was a good dad!), no George Lopez. Nothing. 

Just me, my kid, and my New York. 

Heavy stuff, huh?

To conclude, I just want to reinterate that I will not be proclaiming an "I'm knocked up" message any time soon. Not unless the good Lord decides to pull a Mary on me. And even then, I might have to negotiate with God and show him my unpacked apartment and deformed eggplant in the fridge.  For now, I will contine to enjoy this wonderful life I have. I don't need to list everything that is so wonderful, but one thing I will mention is that I have amazing loved ones who will always be there to encourage me to follow my heart, or, when my heart is being an idiot, will set me straight.

Case in point, I got the following tweet from one of great friends the day after I posted "Babies on the brain.":


That, my friends, is all I needed to hear.

Now on to those abs . . . .


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