As the world was celebrating Easter holiday a week ago, our family gathered together to celebrate “the new beginnings” of a different sort, an anticipated arrival of a new baby, aka food galore and baby gifts and games ad nauseam, otherwise known as…
My “baby” cousin and his lovely wife are expecting a baby boy next month (which makes me slightly nostalgic as my own boy was also born in May, but not nostalgic enough not to rejoice in the fact that, thanks God, those baby days are finally over )
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for my cousin and the whole family. Apparently we’re a bunch of only children keep producing only children themselves. So any new baby is a tiny miracle by any means! And I sincerely hope that at least one of my cousins will break the family “spell” and will have 2 or maybe even 3 children, the “baby” of the family looks young and strong and totally capable of undertaking this task!
The day was truly lovely, the weather was gorgeous, and I was kind of in a mellow mood. My own baby shower was at the exact same time in the beginning of April but 15 year ago.
Did you think you were going to see a picture from my baby shower?! No way I’m posting something as ridiculous as me wearing a hat with all those paper gift ribbons they make you wear as a “token of appreciation” for all the baby goodies you got. It must’ve been the pregnancy hormones that made me “soft in a head” and agreeable to this kind of torture. Maybe one day I’ll just Photoshop the stupid hat out of the pictures so I can at least have a presentable image of myself for the kid’s “memory box”.
But first about my cousin, who I used to babysit during summers and winter vacations, and who, once he reached the age when he realized I’m not really a grown-up, turned to various torture techniques, one of which was to wake me up early in a morning by crashing a toy truck through my scalp. I hold him fully responsible for any “head issues” I currently possess or will turn up with in the future. And since he is now a doctor, he will “reap what you saw” at the end, as I’ll march right into his office demanding free medical care
The party was unisex, so both women and men were in attendance (that’s right, we don’t get to be in this condition on our own), but after a few “hellos” and some bites to eat, all men cleverly disappeared into the basement leaving the women to be slowly drowned in a “sugar coma” from all the baby gifts.
There were plenty of these
But I was trying to concentrate on these ones
By no means, I’m not a “baby hater”, but I fully embrace my own kid’s abilities to feed, dress, wipe and get himself to school. Plus if he happens to be up at 2 am, I actually don’t have to. And since he was first a colicky and then a mischievous baby, I shudder at the very thought of repeating the experience. If nothing inside you stirs that “awwwwe” longing, and you pray that no “baby fever” contamination rubs on you accidentally, that’s when you feel you’re totally “done”, and one kid seems like enough of a headache and sleepless nights for a lifetime (oh I still love him ) Babies and I are just in different life stages now. And I’m fully OK with that!
What Was Cooking For The Party
Lots of different things, and since I also had to work that weekend, I was glad I didn’t have to think about dinner
At a Russian party, you’re never a foot away or 5 minutes in between some kind of food offering. The trick is always to try everything yet manage not to feel like you’ve just gained at least 10 pounds and an end-stage emphysema. You just have to pick your battles.
I started with these, we’re all sushi wh***s
With a side of some of these
Then I loaded up on different kinds of these
Couldn’t pass by some lamb pilaf though
And then dessert was served
Luckily, I could still breathe!
And as we crossed the bridge to go back home, I truly felt that I’ve crossed over from “babyland”, and there is no going back. But that is how life sometimes is, it’s sweet and salty and with some bitter undertones. Just like a Russian shmorgasbord!