06 November 2005

mama said knock you up

Saturday I winced as I watched a gigantic garbage bag fill with pastel effluvia—the decorative byproducts of a baby shower.

I don't mind the concept of a baby shower. Babies are expensive little boogers, so it's nice if its community can chip in. But the blue, the pink, the cute factor of EVERY SINGLE thing—it's all too much. I want to subvert that dominant paradigm, doggone it.

I have a modicum of tact, though, and I have not attempted to foist my "alternative" tastes and ideas on people who clearly embrace mainstream ethos of baby-rearing. Having to suppress this dampens my ever-growing enthusiasm for babies. I want to be able to dote as I so righteously see fit.

There's a solution, though. While I'm not ready to pop out a bambino yet, I think I can volunteer one of my friends. My only married friend, KEWP, is a pastor, so she has her hands full with ALL of God's children. Clearly, I tell Leslie, you need to get knocked up. I want to be an auntie, all ready. We share the same views and tastes, so it would be completely appropriate for me to buy her baby clothes like the ones pictured here.

Not only would it be completely appropriate, but completely adorable—but subversive enough to satisfy me. Leslie and I are good friends, so I don't think it's asking her to too much to have a baby. I'll help paint the baby room a non-gender specific color with low VOC paint. I'll trash pick furniture for the room. I'll even pay for the cats' therapy to deal with their "neglect" issues. I'll be a good auntie. I promise.

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