It was a glorious summer day here in New England today. Blazing sunshine and clear blue skies. The perfect day for a pool party. I had invited some fellow bloggers over with their little ones to talk a little blogging shop and to let the kids frolic together.
That was my cover story anyway. I really just wanted to play with the blogger’s babies. So many sweet little cherubs to play with and photograph. Much more fun than taking photos of pizza and lobster rolls.
I had jokingly stated that I needed blind folds for my ovaries, but that wasn’t really far from the truth. I really miss being pregnant and having babies. Now that I’m 42, that is no longer an option. But part of me regrets that.
It seems like just yesterday when I felt those little flutter kicks in my tummy that later became jabs and kicks to the kidneys. Fond memories. Now, the only way I’ll get those little belly flutters is if I eat a bean burrito, and sadly that just isn’t the same.
I also miss the innocence of those early years. When my kids believed that Thomas The Tank Engine was the real deal. That there really was a purple dinosaur named Barney skipping through some park where it never rained amongst flowers that never wilted.
It was a precious time. My little ones looked up to me. Sure, they were short and had to, but I mean they really looked up to me. I knew everything. I was the fixer of all things. A kiss could take just about any ouchie away.
But as the years went on, that kiss lost some of its power. Some boo boos can’t be kissed away. They also grew to learn that I didn’t always have the answers. Not that that’s entirely bad, it’s just different. It’s real. It’s life.
Kids grow up.
But that doesn’t stop my ovaries from spitting eggs. And the babies and kiddos that came over today, well… there just isn’t enough ovary kryptonite to keep mine from popping those eggs out at the cyclic rate.
I guess that’s the good thing about taking pictures of food. It doesn’t mess with your hormones the way babies do.
A friend gently reminded me today that I will most likely be a grandmother in the not too distant future. Aidan is just about eighteen after all, so it stands to reason that in seven years or so I could very well be a grandmother.
So I guess I’ll patiently wait for that day to come. But in the meantime I’m going to borrow as many babies as I can to get through this baby craving phase. Or maybe I’ll just eat that bean burrito after all and call it a day.