Soon, soon!
Feb. 5th, 2003 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleIn somewhere around twelve-ish hours, there will be a new baby on the planet, and she will be related to me. Of course, being as the universe revolves around me, that would be my take on the matter.
But the fact is, my family has always been so small, I've always felt it very much to be an extension of me. So this having a baby thing my sister is doing is a bit like growing another limb. Well, genealogically speaking, that's exactly what it is, but I was aiming for a more biologically freakish metaphor.
I've been babbling about it all day. My pitifully few hours at my pitiful little reception job dwindled in even their already-small stature as the afternoon wore on and I thought more and more about the impending event. Susan and I have never been especially close, so anything involving her life is bound to be somewhat removed from mine, but now that she can no longer rather forcibly keep me at arm's length, now that I know I'm going to be able to touch the baby without her batting my hands away, now that I actually have to plan how to cart the rest of the family around-- well. Wooty woot.
I bought quilted fabric and stars and moons and letters stamps at Wal-Mart. I realise I'm jealous of how much attention this little girl is going to get, but it's an odd kind of jealousy that makes me want to work even harder for her. I want to be the cool aunt that tells her about The Fey, and makes her tiny costumes, and buys her gorgeous books, and lets her climb the big slide, and reads her stories with women with swords. This is, I promise, not to make up for the fact that I will not be the aunt helping her to figure the angles of a right triangle. (I have a horrible sinking feeling that even my having to say that reveals more about my math ignorance than I'm comfortable with. Alas.) Thankfully, a older black lady with thick glasses came over and felt up the white quilted fabric, peering at it through her bifocals.
"Whatcha gonna make with that?"
I burst out into a huge grin. "It's going to be a bassinet!" I couldn't help but share the pertinent details.
They both lit up, though the woman laughed, "You're leaving it a little late, aren't you?" I assured her this was merely the second-- the first was quite done. I didn't mention that I have no idea when I'll get to finish the hood. Someday. Really. And soon!
The woman and the Wal-Mart associate both congratulated me, and there came that lovely female bonding moment when we acknowledge-- mothers or not-- that children are a glorious mixed bag of fun and trouble. I'm looking forward to exploring that dichotomy.
Today's my last day of being a not-aunt. Thank heavens it's almost over!
But the fact is, my family has always been so small, I've always felt it very much to be an extension of me. So this having a baby thing my sister is doing is a bit like growing another limb. Well, genealogically speaking, that's exactly what it is, but I was aiming for a more biologically freakish metaphor.
I've been babbling about it all day. My pitifully few hours at my pitiful little reception job dwindled in even their already-small stature as the afternoon wore on and I thought more and more about the impending event. Susan and I have never been especially close, so anything involving her life is bound to be somewhat removed from mine, but now that she can no longer rather forcibly keep me at arm's length, now that I know I'm going to be able to touch the baby without her batting my hands away, now that I actually have to plan how to cart the rest of the family around-- well. Wooty woot.
I bought quilted fabric and stars and moons and letters stamps at Wal-Mart. I realise I'm jealous of how much attention this little girl is going to get, but it's an odd kind of jealousy that makes me want to work even harder for her. I want to be the cool aunt that tells her about The Fey, and makes her tiny costumes, and buys her gorgeous books, and lets her climb the big slide, and reads her stories with women with swords. This is, I promise, not to make up for the fact that I will not be the aunt helping her to figure the angles of a right triangle. (I have a horrible sinking feeling that even my having to say that reveals more about my math ignorance than I'm comfortable with. Alas.) Thankfully, a older black lady with thick glasses came over and felt up the white quilted fabric, peering at it through her bifocals.
"Whatcha gonna make with that?"
I burst out into a huge grin. "It's going to be a bassinet!" I couldn't help but share the pertinent details.
They both lit up, though the woman laughed, "You're leaving it a little late, aren't you?" I assured her this was merely the second-- the first was quite done. I didn't mention that I have no idea when I'll get to finish the hood. Someday. Really. And soon!
The woman and the Wal-Mart associate both congratulated me, and there came that lovely female bonding moment when we acknowledge-- mothers or not-- that children are a glorious mixed bag of fun and trouble. I'm looking forward to exploring that dichotomy.
Today's my last day of being a not-aunt. Thank heavens it's almost over!