Going Back Home, Babies, and the Last Box

I headed home to Ithaca this weekend, to meet Laila and Emily -- babies born four days apart to two of my dearest friends. These lucky girls were the recipients of all the baby stuff in my house before I packed and moved.

It was a whirl-wind weekend of holding babies and having them sleep in my arms, going out for drinks with former work friends, getting frozen yogurt in a Porsche, and celebrating Hope's birthday in exactly the way we would have if I still lived there -- Hope, Heather and me at Viva.

Saturday afternoon with Emily...

 the yumminess that is the "pancake" shot -- Jameson's and Butterscotch Schnapps, followed by a shot of orange juice. De-lish!

...and Monday morning with Laila.











At Emily's "welcome to the world" party on Sunday, her grandmother hugged me tight and said, "you'll have this too someday." And right then, I knew. "No I won't." And I won't. I said I wouldn't make a final decision for a year -- and I won't -- but I think I know in my heart, that I don't want to be a 43-year-old single mother to an infant.

It hurt to say good-bye to Emily, and hurt to stay there and continue to stare at her beautiful face. And when Jill's cousin hugged me and said, "this must have been such a hard day for you," it was nice to have someone acknowledge that it was. I hadn't thought about it being hard, but it was.

And so I got out of there, and took a shower back at the hotel, and washed the day away, and waited for a friend to come visit me. We went for a ride in his Porsche and got frozen Greek yogurt with Reese's Pieces and rainbow sprinkles on top.

And when I went to see Laila the next day, there was much less hoopla, much less "all about the baby" talk, and it was very enjoyable, even as I put her in the sleeper rocker that I had bought for New Jersey.

In a lot of ways the weekend was too short -- I didn't get to see everyone. And it was too long -- I'll just leave it at that.

Today, on my bonus day off in PA, I finished unpacking. Finally. I didn't think I would need my over-the-toilet shelf I had in Ithaca, but with a two-bedroom apartment, one does not get the storage space of a two-bedroom townhouse, and so my former neighbor got it out of my place in Ithaca and I picked it up this weekend. My bathroom is "my bathroom" again. 


And I was stretched to the limit with my organizational skills, but once again, came out ahead. The closet doors in the second bedroom close, there is a space big enough to buy a full-sized futon for guests (though I had hoped for an actual queen-sized bed), and all the boxes are unpacked. The very last box, which I will use to send a proper baby gift to my friend Kim in Georgia.