Years ago when my high school friends started having babies, it was a novelty. An excuse to buy something from Baby Gap. But boy did they turn boring quickly. Suddenly all they could talk about was strollers and breast milk and other boring stuff. Meanwhile, I wanted to discuss the latest 'New Yorker' article or the newest show at MOMA. And so as a babyless singleton, I began to spend a great deal of time at parties choosing between sitting in a corner by myself or listening to the merits of breast milk over formula. And let me tell you, it was not a tough choice. I took the me, myself and I route. It was a bit lonely, but I got plenty drunk on all of my rich friends' booze. There was plenty to drink, what with all the women either knocked up or a kid attached to their boob. My friend Leslie and I would commiserate about how if we ever had kids we would never sit around and talk about such frivolities. We would continue to probe the cultural landscape with our minds and talk about more important things than strollers. And during the years I was in art school and in constant need of mental stimulation I couldn't understand why they would want to waste their minds on making playdates and driving carpool.
And now here I sit. With a five month old baby I have already become that which I found intolerable. I am everything I said I would not be. I talk about boobs and bowel movements and between the dogs and Ben I usually have a piece of poop in my hands. But, I will admit that I no longer see it as a waste. Little Ben is a marvel and definitely my biggest accomplishment thus far (not that he has a great deal of competition). Josh and I are totally confounded as to how two such miserable people managed to make someone so joyful. But at least I still read. That counts for something. Doesn't it?