On a harried and unshowered afternoon about three years ago, Nicola and I were pushing double strollers around Castle Island in an incoherent trance, bonding over a traumatizing evening involving FeverAll suppositories and cracking up, tears rolling down cheeks, over imagined sound effects. Back at Nic's, we plied all four babies with Goldfish and blueberries and lamented the fact that we couldn't even finish an afternoon glass of Mother's Little Helper. It was a time when we were straddling the ridiculously thin line between sanity and postpartum craziness, self-proclaimed “poor little bastards” with Boudreau’s Butt Paste in our hair.
That's when Nic declared that one day we'll be beyond this, things will be easier. "We'll be showered, sitting on our arses, drinking wine, and it'll be someone else's turn." Indeed, the ceremonial suppository torch was passed after the Bags' family's 2006 night with toiletries from Brooks but this past weekend at Jen's cocktail baby shower, we realized that the day has dawned. Things have gotten easier. There we were in the South End: Showered, sitting on our arses, and drinking vino as we watched Jen open gift after gift of bewildering babyware, mistaking several items for puppets. (“Exactly how many puppets did your register for?”) Nic, Code Red and I sat back in cockeyed rebellion, running a commentary like these guys, fancying ourselves pass-out-on-the-roofdeck hilarious. We've come a long way but are still capable of regression when in the company of Jen, etal. As she opened up some receiving blankets, I recalled the evening we took a corkscrew to a bottle of balsamic vinegar, having mistaken it for pinot noir. Then we considered putting Ollie in the Baby Bjorn and heading to Beehive. What a fantastic night all around.
Still --even more evidence that the day has dawned – a Memorial Day cookout at Jess’s house, a true Babypalooza, with LPD, Jess and Auntie fostering chaos on a baby blanket. For us, it was the first year we didn't have to worry about the kids eating pine cones. They were actually able to help out and party with the beautiful wee ones and enjoy them as much as we did. This also maximized everyone's enjoyment of the yodeling pickle that Bags brought. I had to Google it the next day to make sure I hadn’t dreamt it. I didn’t. And it sounded just like this. Best of all, in the spirit of cooperation, all mamas and papas were able to sit on their arses, finish their wine and enjoy some (with apologies to LPD) fantastically plump, moist & juicy steamers. Thanks Jess & Joe!
Enjoy a crappy low-res slide show of a superior afternoon.