Caffeine Hobbled Happy Dances, Part Deux
I am very pleased to announced that the lovely and vivacious Seattle Coffee Girl was safely delivered yesterday of a son. And I was all ready to tell you his name but then thought, wait, she might not want me to do that. So let's call him Master Bean for now. I didn't get any birthday photos as I managed to leave my camera in the car and didn't feel like schlepping all the way back to level C of the hospital parking garage once I realized my idiocy.
Anyway, as is the way of fresh new perfect babies, the world just brightened up and seemed a smidge more hopeful yesterday. And when I finally held him in my arms and whispered oh so lovingly to him that Alberto Gonzales wasn't AG anymore he smiled. And I know it was a smile and not gas because I know these things. Shut up.
Right, so yesterday afternoon was comprised of a whole lot of waiting around with 412 members of The Prince's family, which wasn't as awkward as it could have been since I met them all at the wedding last September but after a while I was, indeed, feeling somewhat interloperish. And that's when I realized that I was possibly more bummed than previously realized about the whole not-being-a-the-doula-because-she's-having-a-c-section thing. Certainly, I would have had something to do besides sit and smile while the tribe talked about all these people and things I didn't know. Don't get me wrong. They are lovely people. Still.
Anyway, 'round about 5, a very beaming Prince, whose feet were in fact not touching the floor, formally presented Master Bean to us, all nearly 9 pounds of him. And after a 3 minute flurry of oohing, aahing and hugging, they whisked away and we sat again for another, lord, 2 hours? waiting to see the family in the post-op room. Why so long? Because once they were allowed to receive visitors, this gigantic tribe of people started trooping in in little knots of 2s and 4s. And I couldn't very well muscle in ahead of freshly minted grandparents and aunts and uncles with a "if things had gone to plan I'd've already been in there so back off chumps" sort of thing. So, lacking credentials and bloodlines, I waited until last.
The good news? Stina and Dave had arrived and since they didn't have credentials or bloodlines either, we waited together in the cheap seats and that was superfantasically good. Kept me from chewing off my own arm and everything.
But it was all as it should have been because, though I say it, we were just saving the best for last. We might not be blood but we are family and besides, we were the ones with champagne (good move, Stina). I held that blessed little baby, f-i-n-a-l-l-y, and told him how beautiful he is and how much Auntie loves him and all about the AG (when he smiled) and I even stroked his little head and told him it was OK when that mean old nurse came in and pricked his wittle foot for a stupid old blood test.
We drank champagne.
We said an Our Father.
We welcomed him into the world.
And me without my camera.
I'm taking The Child to meet Master Bean this afternoon when I get off work. I will get him to pose for me then.
happy dance happy dance happy dance happy dance hap-stupid hot coffee-py dance happy !
Anyway, as is the way of fresh new perfect babies, the world just brightened up and seemed a smidge more hopeful yesterday. And when I finally held him in my arms and whispered oh so lovingly to him that Alberto Gonzales wasn't AG anymore he smiled. And I know it was a smile and not gas because I know these things. Shut up.
Right, so yesterday afternoon was comprised of a whole lot of waiting around with 412 members of The Prince's family, which wasn't as awkward as it could have been since I met them all at the wedding last September but after a while I was, indeed, feeling somewhat interloperish. And that's when I realized that I was possibly more bummed than previously realized about the whole not-being-a-the-doula-because-she's-having-a-c-section thing. Certainly, I would have had something to do besides sit and smile while the tribe talked about all these people and things I didn't know. Don't get me wrong. They are lovely people. Still.
Anyway, 'round about 5, a very beaming Prince, whose feet were in fact not touching the floor, formally presented Master Bean to us, all nearly 9 pounds of him. And after a 3 minute flurry of oohing, aahing and hugging, they whisked away and we sat again for another, lord, 2 hours? waiting to see the family in the post-op room. Why so long? Because once they were allowed to receive visitors, this gigantic tribe of people started trooping in in little knots of 2s and 4s. And I couldn't very well muscle in ahead of freshly minted grandparents and aunts and uncles with a "if things had gone to plan I'd've already been in there so back off chumps" sort of thing. So, lacking credentials and bloodlines, I waited until last.
The good news? Stina and Dave had arrived and since they didn't have credentials or bloodlines either, we waited together in the cheap seats and that was superfantasically good. Kept me from chewing off my own arm and everything.
But it was all as it should have been because, though I say it, we were just saving the best for last. We might not be blood but we are family and besides, we were the ones with champagne (good move, Stina). I held that blessed little baby, f-i-n-a-l-l-y, and told him how beautiful he is and how much Auntie loves him and all about the AG (when he smiled) and I even stroked his little head and told him it was OK when that mean old nurse came in and pricked his wittle foot for a stupid old blood test.
We drank champagne.
We said an Our Father.
We welcomed him into the world.
And me without my camera.
I'm taking The Child to meet Master Bean this afternoon when I get off work. I will get him to pose for me then.
happy dance happy dance happy dance happy dance hap-stupid hot coffee-py dance happy !
Labels: amazing things, babies
cobbled together by Moi at 6:28 AM
6 Comments:
it's ok about the pictures. the ones after the new baby is all cleaned up and presentable in a little outfit or festive sleeping compartment will be much more fun right? and the child can do poses next to him. aww
Exactly, Monica. It'll be a super dooper oxitocin fest.
Yup, babies are just so wonderfully wonderful....I love the smell of a baby. I would have gotten pregnant again if it could have been a new couch and chair.
Babies are wonderful things.
I happen to believe that other peoples' babies are the most wonderfullest things ever ... but I'm mean and grouchy like that.
Rosie, I'd have gotten pregnant at least 2 or 3 more times if I'd started when I was younger and perkier.
Red, ah, ya old grouch.
Congrats to SCG and The Prince! Sorry for the belated greetings. It's been one of those weeks.
The "I love babies" gene must have skipped a generation in my family. I will goo and gah with the best of them, and I totally appreciate the miracle and the exquisite joy that accompanies the birth of a child, but outside my kid and grandkids, I don't get all squidgy over babies too often. Give 'em to me when they're 2 or so and I enjoy the heck out of them, but when they're in the burpy, spit-uppy, helpless stage, I'm okay with admiring them from afar. Fortunately, there are people like you and Rosemary around to make up for people like me.
And being pregnant was only fun for a really little while - like the middle 3 months.
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