I want one.
I was actually given permission (i.e., I translated whatever I was told to mean what I wanted to hear) to spice-up my blog post titles with a smidgen of sensationalism. You know, just as you'd add salt to a dish, to taste -- which could be ironic, considering how you feel about this blog.
Whatever, as it's been more than a week since my last blog post (I've been on vacation, so pretty please with turkey leftovers on top pardon my lingering tryptophan hangover), I figured a slightly sensational post title was in order -- sensational BUT TRUE! That's right, kids, I got a uterus for an early Christmas present and, quite immaculately, am with child.
OK, not really. But I helped babysit a beautiful, model-in-training 2-year-old girl named B and her new, 5-week-old baby sister, B2. Loved every minute of it! Seriously, I've already been nursing a low-grade baby fever for months now, and holding a baby in my lap and having her grab at my fingers made the hankering for parenthood a smidgen more official.
Of course, B2 wasn't talkative, unless you counted her spitting up on me (I even found that cute), so I bonded more with B, with whom I watched "Sleeping Beauty" and "Little Mermaid 6: Ariel Visits the Titanic" or whatever it was called -- too much fun, can't wait for the next time we get to hang out.
A couple of days before that, I visited my friend Woo-Bell, who was in town with her two toddler daughters and six-month-old son, who nestled his head into my neck for a few minutes until his mama took him away from me after he spit up on my sweater and Burberry scarf.
That's right: I have baby vomit on my fo' real Burberry scarf -- and I don't even give a flying fig. I mean, I'm gonna have it cleaned before I wear it again, but I didn't care. It was cute!
Granted, I know that when/if I become a parent, I'm not going to find all this puking and pooping and related baby byproducts all that fabulous; but it's adorable for now.
But if you see me in public between now and Christmas, and you notice my holiday-enlarged belly, do NOT think it funny to ask if I'm pregnant because I'll totally stab you in the neck.
Peace, love and baby byproducts ... XOXO
P.S.: The word o' the day is gorgemous (GOR-juh-muss), an adjective combining the flattering words "gorgeous" and "beauteous" with an M thrown in because, otherwise, it would still kinda sound like gorgeous. Anyway, let's use it in a sentence: "You're gorgemous."
