I'm not feeling very kind nor generous right now. In fact, I'm going to say some things that are downright uncharitable and definitely un-PC.
I want to have a baby shower. (That's not the down right mean and definitely un-PC part. Well, it might be un-PC, but not terribly so. Right?)
Typically, I hate showers. They seem really tacky and all about consumering orgy-ing. But you know, damn it, I've never had a shower. I never had a wedding, a bachelorette party, and am not planning to have a bris or naming ceremony for that matter. My mom wanted to throw me a shower during the weekend of my niece's bat mitzvah this May, since the family will be together.
But when my cousin B and sister in law both said, "absolutely not, you deserve your own weekend," I must admit, my heart melted. It made me feel great. Me, the center of attention. How beautiful! I could combine the bridal shower/bachelorette party/wedding/baby shower into one beautiful, all about me, event. A shower in the afternoon, then taking the extended family out for dinner in Park Slope, showing off my beautiful Brooklyn (some of them well familiar with it, others who typically stay in Times Square... triple ughh, but that's for another day.)
B emailed me a list of a half dozen dates in May and June that worked for her. I'm still waiting to hear back from my sister in law on her schedule, but went ahead and emailed that list of dates (all of which worked for me... I'm a creature of simple habits, apparently, though to be fair, I think I'm supposed to stop traveling sometime around then, anyway) to my mother and my sister.
My mother emailed me back and said that all of the dates sucked. She had many other plans on other (non-conflicting) weekends and previous weeks and so would be tired or stressed by traveling these weekends I was suggesting. To be clear, it didn't seem that there were any actual conflicts on those dates. She also asked why we couldn't do it the weekend of that bat mitzvah. This made me feel wicked awesome. Like a total priority.
A couple of years back, my mom threw a birthday party for my niece during the weekend of a cousin's bar mitzvah in NYC (the immediate family all lives in MA, except for me). So immediately after the luncheon, we all trecked the American Girl Palace for a little bit of weary tea and total sensory overload. It was awesome. We all looked a bit drunk with fatigue. I didn't even have time to go home afterwards before it was time for the evening reception. I reckon my niece enjoyed it, somewhat, but then she melted down at the evening party. It was clear to all of us, save my mom, that a nap would've been a much better idea than adding one more event to a busy day.
And now she'd like to repeat the experience. Yay!
I was upset by this, and called my sister, who was traveling to New Mexico, where her husband has just been offered a job. I was worried that she would think my mom's idea was a swell one, but she immediately agreed with my cousin and sister in law, and said that of course I deserved my own weekend, and that she was looking forward to it, and "had been thinking that she would help plan it."
Sigh of contented relief.
So today, her second day back after her trip, we chatted for a bit by phone about her trip, and then at the end of our conversation, I asked her if she would respond to the list of dates I had sent her.
She sent me an email later in the day. The only date that matched my cousin's list was May 14th. Sigh. Not what I had been hoping for. I had this vision of a June party. I sent my mom an email asking if she could make the May date work.
Walking home from work, I wondered if that date really did work for my sister, as I knew her nephew's bar mitzvah was around that time. So I called her to double check. Granted, I got her on the phone while she was trying to round up (pun mostly non-coincidental but still enjoyable) her daughter from her riding lesson. I quickly asked my question as she barked out orders to her daughter.
Then she said that actually, the sooner the better for her, in terms of the shower, and she hoped I would consider April.
APRIL!!! Have I mentioned that I am due the 6th of August???
First off, cousin Naomi tells me that the proper time to have a baby shower, per the Jewish version of Emily Post, is 6-8 weeks prior to the due date. Second off, I have already developed my fantasy baby shower. Everyone will be dressed in Roaring Twenties costumes/Brittish-y Tennis Whites and we will play croquet. There will be those long cigarette holders -- I don't know what they are called, but they make smoking (or faux smoking, at my party) look waaaay glamorous, as opposed to stinky and gross. Also, we will barbeque. Both of these activities will take place in Prospect Park. I have been forced to recognize by dear Cousin Naomi that barbeque and croquet/Roaring Twenties don't exactly "go" (as in together). But you know, it's still early... a girl must have her dreams. As the date draws a little closer, I will hover closer to Planet Reality, no doubt.
Anyway, nothing about April, as in the-ground-is-still-frozen, it's-not-even-spring-yet, works with these fantasies. Not to mention, being told you're quite low on the priority list is a sure way to make a momma to be feel kind of low. Especially, maybe?, a momma to be who is already single and doesn't often get to be the star of the show. Perhaps by her own volition. But still.
So I just called my mom, who is far from blameless, and vented. But, being my mom, she let me vent. And then said, "If you want it in June, do it in June. I will be there. Unless it's the first weekend in June, when I have a committment. But otherwise, I will be there. Don't worry about your sister. She probably won't be able to come in June if she's moving, regardless, so just do it when you want do do it."
Then we basically trash talked my sister/her daughter and that fact that she can't get a damn thing done. (This is where the mean/un-PC part comes in.) That she's a full time stay at home mom who stresses about getting the laundry done. Lest I sound unfair... she's a full time stay at home mom with both of her children in school full time. Oh, and also, with a husband around. And that she surely will be in a shit panic about moving in July (if, indeed, they decide to move). Despite the fact that it's only January and she has months to plan. But according to my mother, my sister hasn't had "time" to empty the trash in her "office" (read: dumping ground) in two years, so all the time in the world wouldn't be time enough for her to pack.
Okay, this is sounding mean, even to me. Seeing this in written form, it's obvious that my sister's got, well, "issues." She can't get crap done. And I should feel sorry for her, because that's got to be a terrible condition to have. But sometimes, as a single, working, soon-to-be-mom, it sounds like a nice condition to have the luxury of suffering from. Even if, deep in my heart, I know it's not.
Well, I feel a little bit better. Back to fantasizing about my costume.
On an unrelated note, I'm proud to say that I cooked dinner for myself tonight! For the second time since I've been pregnant. I made chicken soup (this "quick" recipe that uses some pre-made soup, or boullion in my case, plus some cut up veggies and chicken... organic kosher chicken that turned out quite tasty). It's all about not taking a nap... that's why I could cook. Which I was able to do because I wasn't trying to convince myself to work out. Because I woke up a few minutes early and hopped on the elliptical before work. So now I'm in this whole new beautiful schedule, I HOPE, where I work out before work so that when the day is done, I don't have to come home and achieve some more. Cooking doesn't count, as an achievement, in case you are wondering... I see it more as a pre-requisitie to motherhood, which is a tad intimidating, given the aforementioned record of only two cooked meals during my pregnancy. A little snack usually does me in the evenings... cheese and crackers, milk and fruit, that sort of thing. Even though I'm hungry, I can't be bothered, particularly. So then I need two breakfasts the next morning. Including a giant buttered bagel. Just what the midwife ordered, right? Oh well.