The hubby and I went out recently to our favorite cozy Italian restaurant to celebrate my 38th birthday. Although we make a concerted effort to discuss non-parental issues during date night, the conversation at the dinner table always seems to circle back to the girls. I was completely unprepared, however, for developing mom amnesia of the most critical kind, not to mention being rendered temporarily insane, after drinking an orange creamsicle martini.
As I was finishing my drink, I glanced up to people watch as several patrons came into the restaurant. And then I saw her. She strolled through the restaurant doors, fashionably dressed and glowing with that radiant maternal beauty that only a pregnant woman who has been blessed with the ability to look put together and polished, and not bloated and nauseous, can have. It didn’t hurt that she was tall, leggy, and blonde, unlike me—short, high-waisted, and blonde. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t. She was poised, not puffy. She was beautiful, not bloated. She was Über Cute Pregnant Lady.
Suddenly I had a flashback. We had come to this very same restaurant mid-way during my pregnancy with our second daughter. For just a few minutes I teased my husband about it not being too late for us to have another baby, even though it would be nearly impossible due to a certain medical procedure designed to prevent future pregnancies. I wistfully fantasized about the romantic aspects of being pregnant again. It was as if my biological clock knew it was my birthday and that time was of the essence. I was a woman in my prime being held hostage by my hormones. They were manipulating my mind and playing cruel tricks on me. For a few minutes I forgot about the heartburn, the swollen ankles, and the sleepless marathon nursing sessions.
Thankfully I came to my senses once I nibbled on an appetizer. The hubby, knowing I have a low tolerance for alcohol and I have a bent for the dramatic, didn’t spew red wine across the table or kick me in the shins because he knew it was the martini, and maternal hormones, talking.
