Baby On Board

Well friends, I've got some big news...about 8lbs. of news to be exact. That's right, Sweetpotato and I are having our very first TATER TOT!!

Couldn't you just die!? Lord knows the combination of our genes will certainly produce the most delightful little specimen of humanity ever, but there's more...

The baby is a MINI QUEENIE!!! Now you can die AND go right to heaven, cantcha? I mean 'bout the only thing better than a world full of Queenie is, well, a world full of 2 Queenies. I had always meant to wait for the the big surprise, you know the moment the doctor catches the little thing and proclaims, "It's a Girl!" But then I got to thinkin', what if it's not a girl? What if, in some crazy twist of fate the universe slips from its axis and I give birth to a Y-chromosome?! ** Now this, is not to say that those of you who have little Y-chromosomes runnin around your house aren't happy as clams, and I do intend to have a little football playing mongral for Sweetpotato one day, but I have always intended to have a daughter first and I felt that if the universe had gone and screwed up my plans, I should be prepared! I mean, I have routines to choreograph and tap shoes to buy. The Queen Mum has already taken all my old sequin-covered recital costumes out of the attic, and just as soon as she can walk, the little one will be in dance classes just a tappin away! My grand plan is to pop out a few of these lil Taters, teach them all some song and dance routines, and take my show on the road! By god, I'm gonna revive the Vaudeville if it's the last thing I do...just call me Mama Rose!

Alas, all is right with the world and in early February, I am going to bestow upon the world one perfect lil' girl with one very large attitude.

How do I know she has an attitude? The obvious genetic predisposition not withstanding, this fetus has refused to cooperate for even a single instance since her conception. As I lay on the doctor's table, belly covered in blue goo and trying desperately to identify any of the organs the technician is pointing to on a screen of fuzzy grey blobs, the only thing that seems clear is that the baby is not cooperating. So they roll me and poke me and try to coax the child to turn over or uncross her legs or move her hand so we can measure her face, and she ain't having none of it. She keeps those legs locked and her face covered. I was afraid she might be shy but then I realized that she's just not ready to be seen. I mean, her momma don't go out the house without her face on and here this child's face isn't fully formed! She's certainly not posing for pictures with eyes out of place.....who know vanity was genetic?

Since then, she has proceeded to be the most disruptive house guest I've ever had. I can't hardly roll one way before she's rollin' the other, and no seated position pleases her Mini Highness. What does please her, are long bouts of jumping followed by kicking, followed by trampolining on my bladder, only at bedtime of course, unless I'm in a movie theater, restaurant, or meeting room where it might also be uncomfortable and distracting. I mean I know she's just practicing her ballet, but really, it's not workin' for me. No matter, I'm keeping a list of all the sacrifices I've made for Mini Q, of which I shall remind her daily when she is of a sufficient age to feel guilt and remorse.

Number 1 on the list....the abstention from alcohol. Now I'm not sure that this quite qualifies me for sainthood, but surviving a holiday season without booze and without alienating half my friends and family deserves some sort of recognition, to be sure. I mean, I haven't had mimosa in 8 months, and it's near to the point where I'm finding plain orange juice actually refreshing! Hell, by the time you cut out every "unrecommended" beverage, it's basically water or water and my insides are just about to rust from all that mountain spring goodness.

Alright, I'll stop my moanin', it's not that I'm not pleased as punch to be carrying this little bundle, but I didn't want y'all to think pregnancy had culled my complaining and turned me into one of those goo-goo-eyed mommies who days were filled with chirping birds and rays of sunshine. No, no, friends, I'm still hearing sirens and seeing fashion faux pas, just now from a much WIDER perspective;-)