I owe you an apology for the disappearing act.* But that's the thing about growing a human. It kinda takes up all your free time. Even when you're not actually doing anything, you're too busy staring at your stomach and marveling at the random movements that for once, are not caused by eating too much Taco Bell. And what solid movements they are. I'm convinced I'm growing a mini Pele, what with all the kicking.
Rest assured, this will not become a mommy blog. There will be no long philosophical posts about how potty training prepares ones for the trials and tribulations of the real world and no proud missives about how the little one is clearly Harvard bound ever since he learned to stop eating his own toes. There will, on occasion, be posts about how growing a mini-me has made me even more neurotic than I thought possible.
Take Baby 'Boo's first party. Our unwitting family members kindly offered to throw a party to celebrate Baby 'Boo's upcoming arrival. I saw this as an opportunity for a color-coordinated, themed party worthy of the pages of my favorite party blogs. No cutesy baby animals, no pastel baby shower signs, and certainly no games involving mashed up candy bars in diapers mimicking you-know-what. Lord knows I'd have enough of that in the next few months. I definitely didn't need to start that early. And really, if I had a candy bar, I'd eat it, not mash it up in a diaper.
No, this party would be an afternoon of hanging out with friends and family and enjoying the summer sun. It'd be our last hurrah before we changed a million diapers and washed a million and one baby bottles. And really, what better way to celebrate than with a lime green, navy blue, and polka dotted party out on the deck?
And because I firmly believe that the most important thing I can pass on to Baby 'Boo is a love of food, we spent a ridiculous amount of time planning the perfect menu of Afghan food- bolani (potato pancakes), chapli kebabs (beef patties), chicken kebabs, qabli pulao (rice pilaf with carrots, raisins, and almonds), borani banjan (eggplant layered with yogurt), and samosas. And then two days before the party, the caterer "lost" our order. I'm not sure how a caterer can "lose" an order but the hubster kept me far away when he broke the news to me. Probably because he was afraid I'd "lose" it on the caterer. Thankfully, we found a replacement caterer. And suddenly, the party was back on track
Come party day, I became a bit of a drill sergeant. I may or may not have yelled at some people when my polka-dotted Baby Boy banner wasn't hanging perfectly straight. I may or may not have waved my fists in the air when the dessert table wasn't set up according to my perfect, easy-to-follow directions. And um, I may or may not have stomped off in anger only to stomp back a few seconds later when the party chairs weren't set up on time. And in the middle of barking orders as we set up for the party, I was really glad that these people were related to me. Because they would've lost my number a long time ago if they weren't.
Even from beneath my tyranny, my darling family members agreed that the dessert table was worthy of my favorite party blogs. Our favorite cake (Lady Baltimore), lemon curd cupcakes, brownie bites, color-coded chocolates, and the piece de resistance, Gina's perfect macarons in a darling shade of blue, layered with the most decadent ganache. These babies were so perfect, they deserve a post of their own (and I promise one is coming). But suffice it to say, they were so good that some party guests admitted to eating six of them. Which would explain why they were the first dessert to be finished. And that too, before lunch was served.
And when it was all over, I came away with the understanding that the little human I'm growing is already the most loved little man. Oh, and a set of pictures of my perfectly color-themed party pictures. Because really, what's the point of growing a human if you can't throw (him) themed parties, right?
*I have truly appreciated your comments and emails asking about my well being. They have made me smile as I continue to get bigger. Because let's be real, most days I just feel bigger and not necessarily, bigger and better.