If you’ve been reading my blog from its inception, first of all, thanks! Second of all, you might remember the short conversation I conjured in my mind with my future baby in my very first post.
Well that brief “interaction” didn’t go so well, so I thought I’d give Future Baby (who will henceforth be referred to as FB) another chance.
If I was to have a preconceptual encounter with the little one today (I know this is impossible, but just go with it), this is how I imagine it would go (and yes, he/she already has the verbal capabilities of an adult with a college education. I have high expectations):
ME: Hey, FB.
FB: Waaaaazzzzz uuuup??
Ok, stop! Already, my future baby is either drunk or high and has the gruff, gravelly voice of a 40-year-old chain smoker. Why am I picturing Baby Herman from Roger Rabbit??
I need to regroup and re-imagine this scenario. Give me a second. Ok, let’s try this again.
ME: Hi cute little baby with big innocent eyes, round chubby cheeks and an adorable smile! (Imagery is a lot easier if you just spell it out for yourself.)
FB: Hi Future Mom! I can’t wait to meet you and be molded into the kind, successful, attractive person you want me to be!
ME: Aww, thanks FB! I love that you’re already trying to suck up to me before you’re even conceived.
FB: I just want to make you happy!
Ahh, if only that’s how being a parent really goes…
ME: Ok, enough with the brown-nosing, shorty. Let’s get down to brass tacks. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just want to let you know that I’m still not quite ready to make you yet.
FB: But why? I promise I’ll start sleeping through the night right away, practically potty train myself and be all around developmentally advanced!
ME: Hmm, that’s a tempting promise FB, but I have to pass. The truth is, I’m just not mommy material yet.
FB: Well what the hell is wrong with you?
ME: Hey, watch the attitude, young pre-fetus thing! Last week, I watched Real Housewife of New Jersey Teresa screaming and crying and panicking as she received an epidural and THEN she was forced to give birth, which was so bad they wouldn’t even show it! All you could see was the closed door to her room, but you could hear the sounds, and I swear I think they were disemboweling her using some sort of medieval torture device. And then the other night I happened upon an episode of I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant on TLC in which a woman (who didn’t know she was pregnant) went to the hospital experiencing the worst pain of her life and then the baby came out and fell on her shoe! And it was GROSS. So if it’s ok with you, FB, I’m just going to wait until I really really want you in my life before I risk getting placenta on my Steve Maddens. (I wanted to say Manolos, but that would be misleading – sorry kid, there will be no trust fund waiting for you.) Also, I might add that I caught the end of I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant because I was waiting for a new episode of Toddlers & Tiaras to come on. I might as well slap an “UNFIT FUTURE MOTHER” sign on my forehead!!
FB: Yikes. You sure are neurotic. But in a loveable sort of way.
ME: Thanks. Don’t worry, when you finally become a real human life, I will teach you my ways.
FB: That’s what I’m afraid of.
ME: You and me both.
FB: So there is still no chance of me being created anytime soon?
ME: If all goes according to plan, then no. But I will say that I’ve seen a few babies recently who I actually thought were cute…or at least had potential. So I guess that’s promising. Here’s a tip: the cuter you are, the easier it will be for me to like you. I’m just saying…
FB: No problem, of course I’ll be cute. Look at who my parents are! <wink>
ME: Oh FB, you are a delight! I’m glad we had this talk.
FB: Me too. But what’s with all of these reality shows featuring horrifying childbirth scenes? I think it’s becoming detrimental to my existence.
ME: Good question, you’ll have to take that up with Bravo, E!, and TLC. It’s out of my control at this point. It seems I’m compelled to watch any reality show involving housewives, celebrities, or spoiled rich girls on either coast. Sorry, FB, your future mother is an addict.
FB: Yes, it’s very clear that you need help.
ME: Well it’s been real FB, but I gotta run. Maybe I’ll see you in a couple years.
FB: Ok, I’ll just be here…waiting to exist…
ME: Have fun with that. Peace out, FB!
FB: I think I’m already experiencing abandonment issues.
Hello, Sweetheart. I can guarantee that you (and I) will think my future grandchild is the cutest thing on the planet. You may find this hard to believe, but there are people who don’t think Gatsby is the cutest dog ever, but you do, because he’s yours. I remember taking you in to get your portrait taken at the age of 2 (your “chubby” phase) and thinking all the other moms in the waiting room must be jealous because you were so adorable. Now when I look at those pictures…well, you get the idea.