Am I too Old?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
B eing the Sex and The City addict that I am, I can recite episodes after episodes, tell you what Carrie was wearing when and where, who Samantha was fucking, who Miranda was fighting with and how Charlotte decorated her apartment. I am THAT good. I’m sure you’ve seen a couple of the episodes yourself. Remember the episode where the girls headed to Connecticut for a baby shower? Once they arrived, they felt uncomfortable, the little talks, babies crawling everywhere, baby gears in boxes with ribbons of every color of the rainbow, little finger food to munch on. Okay, the first time I saw the episode I was in college and none of my friends had babies – yet. So I thought, “it can’t be that bad…right?”
About 6 months ago, I received an invitation for a friend’s baby shower – sealed in a cute blue envelope and there is this lullaby tune once you open it. Really cute. I don’t even know why they send invitations months ahead but anyway all my perception of baby showers changed. Imagine this, you had to RSVP. Seriously, how many people were they expecting?
My really good friend J. from boarding school lives in Bergen – husband in tow, white picket fence, huge colonial house, two dogs and nice cars. He’s a lawyer and she’s a stay at home/daycare teacher/first grade – I don’t know really. All I know is that we have strikingly different lives. Lets compare:
She’s a teacher of some sort and she lives in suburbia like the Desperate Housewives. I work in magazine publishing and I write. I’ve slept with [exclude number] of women and she’s married to the only person she slept with. She’s a crazy conservative Catholic. And well…I’m just a liberal lezzie. But she will always be a part of my life – we survived boarding together. But we’ve drifted a lot and occasionally talk on the phone. I just don’t think we will be able to relate to one another until I eventually have milk in my breast and ready to pop my third kid.
When I stepped into the foyer, I just knew I didn’t belong there. I am pretty sure I had the same “what the fuck am I doing here” look Carrie had when she went to the party. I thought a pretty Lacy black dress was appropriate baby shower attire – vomit and spit proof. but I was wrong. I looked more like the entertainment of the party – sort of like the stripper guys hire for parties not the girl who bought the bibs and matching bottles with the days of the week engraved in them.
I was ready to head back out when someone came running cheerfully with a giant smile on their face and welcoming me to J’s baby shower. I wonder how teachers are so happy all the time? I dragged my foot and managed to walk to the living room where balloons hung from the ceiling and finger foods were everywhere, children screaming and crying for their mothers and J. sitting looking more gorgeous then the last time I saw her. I felt awkward – all eyes on the girl who wore the black dress with heels instead of wearing loafers and elastic waist pants.
I spent the entire 6 hours glued to a chair saying Ooohs and Aaaaahs at the slightest sight of pajamas and cute little tees and socks. Her friends by the way, are all married, teachers, pregnant or already have children and are on their second or third and all look a-like. I felt out of place. More like Julia Robers in Pretty Woman when she went shopping in her stripper-ish outfit. I made a couple of jokes here and there, told them about my plans for the book, you know, my trademark. I wanted to make them as uncomfortable as I was and also to prove that – YES, I am happy being not married and no poop diapers to change every minute of the day. Of course to them, anyone outside of suburbia is completely insane, naive (for not having kids and a husband) and overly self-absorbed.
I always pictured myself married by uhhh…35 and children a year later. Everyone knows I love kids. Absolutely love them. Being at that shower made me realize that there is a world outside of the city, suburbia isn’t bad, having someone to come home to or vice versa (for those power hungry women) and having children running around, screaming and laughing, but most importantly, hearing them say I love you when you tuck them into bed at night is something worth knowing and fulfilling. What is better than that?
It was almost 7p and I wanted to get home and this really attractive teacher came up to me and asked about my writing and you could just tell that she envied my life – you know the one where I work like a slave, attend black tie parties and basically have a night life. It is exciting. Really.
They always say the grass is greener on the other side. I had my glimpse of suburbia life and I am not too sure if that life is for me yet. Perhaps in the future.
About 6 months ago, I received an invitation for a friend’s baby shower – sealed in a cute blue envelope and there is this lullaby tune once you open it. Really cute. I don’t even know why they send invitations months ahead but anyway all my perception of baby showers changed. Imagine this, you had to RSVP. Seriously, how many people were they expecting?
My really good friend J. from boarding school lives in Bergen – husband in tow, white picket fence, huge colonial house, two dogs and nice cars. He’s a lawyer and she’s a stay at home/daycare teacher/first grade – I don’t know really. All I know is that we have strikingly different lives. Lets compare:
She’s a teacher of some sort and she lives in suburbia like the Desperate Housewives. I work in magazine publishing and I write. I’ve slept with [exclude number] of women and she’s married to the only person she slept with. She’s a crazy conservative Catholic. And well…I’m just a liberal lezzie. But she will always be a part of my life – we survived boarding together. But we’ve drifted a lot and occasionally talk on the phone. I just don’t think we will be able to relate to one another until I eventually have milk in my breast and ready to pop my third kid.
When I stepped into the foyer, I just knew I didn’t belong there. I am pretty sure I had the same “what the fuck am I doing here” look Carrie had when she went to the party. I thought a pretty Lacy black dress was appropriate baby shower attire – vomit and spit proof. but I was wrong. I looked more like the entertainment of the party – sort of like the stripper guys hire for parties not the girl who bought the bibs and matching bottles with the days of the week engraved in them.
I was ready to head back out when someone came running cheerfully with a giant smile on their face and welcoming me to J’s baby shower. I wonder how teachers are so happy all the time? I dragged my foot and managed to walk to the living room where balloons hung from the ceiling and finger foods were everywhere, children screaming and crying for their mothers and J. sitting looking more gorgeous then the last time I saw her. I felt awkward – all eyes on the girl who wore the black dress with heels instead of wearing loafers and elastic waist pants.
I spent the entire 6 hours glued to a chair saying Ooohs and Aaaaahs at the slightest sight of pajamas and cute little tees and socks. Her friends by the way, are all married, teachers, pregnant or already have children and are on their second or third and all look a-like. I felt out of place. More like Julia Robers in Pretty Woman when she went shopping in her stripper-ish outfit. I made a couple of jokes here and there, told them about my plans for the book, you know, my trademark. I wanted to make them as uncomfortable as I was and also to prove that – YES, I am happy being not married and no poop diapers to change every minute of the day. Of course to them, anyone outside of suburbia is completely insane, naive (for not having kids and a husband) and overly self-absorbed.
I always pictured myself married by uhhh…35 and children a year later. Everyone knows I love kids. Absolutely love them. Being at that shower made me realize that there is a world outside of the city, suburbia isn’t bad, having someone to come home to or vice versa (for those power hungry women) and having children running around, screaming and laughing, but most importantly, hearing them say I love you when you tuck them into bed at night is something worth knowing and fulfilling. What is better than that?
It was almost 7p and I wanted to get home and this really attractive teacher came up to me and asked about my writing and you could just tell that she envied my life – you know the one where I work like a slave, attend black tie parties and basically have a night life. It is exciting. Really.
They always say the grass is greener on the other side. I had my glimpse of suburbia life and I am not too sure if that life is for me yet. Perhaps in the future.
babies can be cute...but I cant deal with smelly diapers and vomit all over me, and really the whole baby smell.
hahaha i guess i shouldnt be a mother then.
i can feel your "what the fuck am i doing here" pain and the look on your face was probably priceless.