"You feel the beat of a brand new heart / All change / She's having a baby / It draws you close as it tears you apart . . . / Been dreaming about it so long / And now that the moment has come / Mixed drinks and mixed emotions"
Dusty and I had a rather packed social calendar this past weekend. On Friday night, we caught Danny Michel's great live show at the Myer Horowitz Theatre. The stage was pretty bare: an unused drum kit, a piano, a few scattered amps, and Danny with his guitar and electronics. Yet his breezy, laid-back charisma easily filled the room. Besides being an accomplished musician and lyricist, Danny is about 88 kinds of adorable. I was tempted to just roll him up and tuck him into my back pocket so I could cuddle him later. The Wheat Pool boys were a different sort of delicious; their brooding, literary country-rock opening set was a stark contrast to Danny's wry electronic folk songs. I guess the baby likes live music, too; there was lots of rolling around going on in my belly during the show.
Saturday night was our monthly dinner club outing at NAIT's culinary school. The food and the company was divine, as always, but I feel slightly left out of the wine tasting. I can't wait until I can drink properly again. The tiny, minuscule, just-on-the-tip-of-my-tongue sips I had of the wines they pair with each of the four scrumptious dishes always makes me long for a full glass. I miss being able to savor a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon with a filet mignon cooked medium-rare. I miss having a chilled glass of plum wine accompanied by the rarest tuna and salmon sashimi. I miss going down to the pub for a pint when Beer O'Clock rolls around.
After a rousing session of post-book-club Rock Band on Sunday, I realized that there are even bigger things I will miss once the baby is born. Namely, I will miss hanging out with friends of ours who not only do not have children, but have actively chosen not to have children. When Dusty and I were struggling to get pregnant, we agreed that if a certain amount of time passed and we were still unable to conceive, we would content ourselves with being Tita and Uncle and relish the freedom that comes with not having to be responsible for a wee one. Now, because bargaining with the Universe is like bargaining with a market vendor in a Third World country, we got pregnant as soon as we decided we weren't going to try to get pregnant.
I'm jazzed that we will probably deepen and develop friendships with coworkers we like who have kids; we'll soon be looking for kid-friendly activities and we'll be more inclined and equipped to spend time with fellow parents. But I don't want our circle of friends to suddenly be limited to people with kids. Just because we both squirted out live human beings from our vaginas doesn't mean we will instantly like each other or that we should be forced to hang out. Especially because if kids are all we have in common, then that's all we'll talk about. And yes, motherhood is amazing and rewarding and all that blah blah blah. I just want to be able to talk about something other than kids all the time.
I know it will be difficult to maintain a decent relationship with friends who have no kids and I feel a little bit like I'm starting to mourn a loss. We may no longer be able to have these friends over to our house because a child will soon be living [and crying and crawling and running and yelling] here. We won't be able to go out as a couple as often with these friends because we won't always find a babysitter in time. Hell, it might be nigh impossible for just Dusty and me to spontaneously go for a beer on a Wednesday evening or see a show on a Friday night because someone has to watch our kid. I hope that won't be the case, and that we will be able to steal moments to ourselves as adults, but I'm preparing for it to be a challenge.
All change. I'm having a baby. Sigh.
"She's Having A Baby" by Dave Wakeling