I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish

So! Celebrity deaths! You know, I have no real strong feelings on any of those who died, except that I liked Billy Mays, dammit, and could almost always be relied upon to buy whatever it was he was hawking. He stole my heart with OxyClean, and never gave it back. While I was vaguely moved by Michael Jackson’s passing, I have to say it was … well, it was mostly inevitable, right? I’m no Nostradamus, but that dude was not long for this world.

I’ve told you about my affinity for products that are as seen on TV, most notably the awful, awful sugaring wax kit debacle that I’m not even going to LINK to, that’s how awful it was. But if you were wondering, it involves getting sugar wax stuck inside … areas where Farrah Fawcett had cancer, and while yes, you probably saw a similar story tooting around the Internet as one of those jokey e-mails, as I did later, let me assure you, it actually happened to me, and probably happens every day to someone. The allure of an at-home bikini wax is like a siren song, especially after spending a good half-hour at 2 a.m. watching them show you how EASY it is!

Not unlike the infamous Epilady incident, wherein I was using it to … epilate? … my legs and the daughter of a family friend had her doll nearby, and was all, “Look, Baby Bubbles! Auntie Jonna’s shaving!” and gave Baby Bubbles a closer look at the whirring coils.

Baby Bubbles lost her life that day to the Epilady. May she rest in peace.

Also, if you didn’t know, the Epilady fucking HURTS. Or at least it did in the old style, which was basically exposed coils gyrating around and ripping your hair out at the roots, along with Baby Bubbles’ hair and ultimately, head. Yes, SURE, your leg hair doesn’t grow back for AGES, but you’d get the same result pouring flesh-eating acid directly onto your skin, and it would probably hurt quite a bit less.

By the by, to close the loop on something approximately no one was wondering about, I haven’t gone back to work yet, and have no plans to in the immediate future. This is … surprising to me, she of the hand-wringy-ness for years about how my whole IDENTITY was my JOB and no baby was going to TAKE THAT AWAY FROM MEEEEEEEE. Well well well, surprise surprise. You can plan absolutely nothing when it comes to having a baby, and since it works for us right now, it works for me, and yes, I’m aware of how lucky I am to get to make that choice.

Speaking of choices, one thing that is both fortunate and unfortunate is that I had my first baby a little later in life than some, at 33. In some ways, I deeply regret waiting so long, for had I known how much I was going to enjoy it, I could have saved myself years of preemptive identity crises and hand-wringing and annoying, introspective posts about how hard it was to decide whether to have children, because hell, what about that summer in Paris I’d always planned on? WHAT ABOUT FRANCE?

On the other hand, folks, let’s be glad I waited so long — or at least, Adam should be glad I waited so long — because if I’d started earlier, I guarantee you that I’d have five children by now, begging Adam to get going on the sixth and seventh and maybe EIGHTH. Jonna & Adam Plus 8! Take THAT Jon & Kate! Or Kate! And, uh, Jon! Alone! Whatever! At this rate, and at my age, it’s likely we’ll cap out at two. Uh, maybe three. (Adam is shitting himself in the corner somewhere, but I am allowing for twins, okay?) (Or maybe I just want three. I don’t know.) Not that having more is bad — au contraire — but really, two is fine, and all I really wanted before I started this whole journey, and eight would have been a creepy biological urge beyond my comprehension, rather than something I approached with logic and the intimate knowledge of our financial situation.

Then again, if you’d told me before Sam was here that I’d have a baby who screams all the time, has colic AND reflux and that I would be co-sleeping and exclusively breastfeeding, I’d probably have laughed directly in your face. Ah, life plans. The most useless pieces of shit imaginable, but not in a bad way.

And with that, I’ll leave you with a photo of my girl out for a walk with her daddy. The whole walk, Adam kept sending me photos of her in funny poses with captions like, ‘Getting a passport’ (in front of the post office), ‘Saw Up. Loved it.’ (in front of the movie theater). This one, alas, was simply titled, ‘Miss you!’

And, uh, I missed them, too. It’s been a rough road in more ways than I can even go into, but after all of it, man, it’s way better than I ever could have anticipated.

Happy Monday!

*The Smiths

34 comments June 28th, 2009