Genes
Posted by Moose on February 9th, 2009. Filed under: Gene Pool.As she was dishing up macaroni and cheese last night, my mom accidentally dumped a spoonful of elbow pasta into her water glass. Instead of hopping up to empty her glass and pour fresh water, she shrugged and drank around the macaroni. Which I find vastly entertaining because this is precisely something I would do: 1) fumble a basic utensil and dump food into a water glass, 2) prefer to remain seated instead of getting up to remedy the issue, 3) be highly amused by drinking around a misplaced hunk of dinner. Last night was a study in family similarity, from a shared love of absurd and somewhat off-color humor to a basic ineptitude when it comes to spatial relations. And my brother hurled wadded-up napkins at me until I confiscated every single napkin at the table and sat on them, but I suspect that’s more a trend of universal sibling relating than anything specific to our DNA.
Yesterday was Holly’s birthday, which we celebrated in the best way possible – a table full of favorite people, drinking mimosas in glasses the size of soup bowls and eating pesto scrambles to soak up all the champagne. Leah and Simon brought Baby Wombat and passed him graciously around the table. When Simon said, “Who wants to hold him?” my arm shot up so fast I almost took Holly’s ear off.
(The birthday girl, a perfect baby displaying a perfect grimace of ”who the hell is this woman and why won’t she share her french toast?” and me.)
With no notion of what the future holds for me romantically, I’m certain only of my admittedly-biological-but-also-well-considered determination to have kids, man or no man. And I’ll take this opportunity to say that Baby Wombat would be first on the Borrow and Not Give Back list if my methods took a felonious turn. Wombat is the platonic ideal of babyhood – cute, good natured, and plump as a Christmas ham. He’s so easygoing that even a rank amateur like myself can bounce him on my knee, keep his occasional grimace from turning into a full-blown squall, and stuff myself with french toast and coffee at the same time. (Still not entirely convinced this is the case, however. If genes hold, there’s no way I’m getting a child as sweet and quiet as Mr. Wombat. I spent 1978 to 1981 shrieking like an angry Rhesus monkey and I’m quite sure the karmic wheel took note.)
Wombat’s parents are as laid back as their spawn, and this may have something do with his gentle, non-fussy nature. I wonder what role their genes will play in his development as he morphs from mooshy bundle of ovary-busting sweetness into a toddler and a boy and a man. Will he look more like his mother or his father? (The breakfast jury is still out. We spent hours saying, “Now he looks like Leah. Wait, now Simon. Nope, there’s Leah again.”) Will he become a musician, because his father drums his little hands to an imaginary strain of Led Zeppelin and often assists with Baby’s First Air Guitar? Or will he be more inclined toward his mother’s eloquent writing style and perfect grammar? Or maybe he’ll blend the two and become the voice of his generation as a great poet/musician, allowing me to retire when I sell these baby pictures on Ebay.
(For my mother. Because this is as close to a picture of me with a grandkid as she’s going to get for quite some time. Enjoy.)
Part of me is very taken with the idea of adoption – there are plenty of children in this world who need homes and neurotic mothers – but a bigger part of me wants to watch my genes meld with those of someone I love. To watch as those genes and traits from the two of us turn into something entirely new.
And laugh when in fifteen years that child drops a chunk of macaroni and cheese in his water glass and drinks from it anyway.
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February 9th, 2009 at 10:46 am
He looooooved him some Moose (and I don’t think it was just because of the lure of French toast). You’re gonna make an excellent Moose Maw someday =)
February 9th, 2009 at 10:49 am
He’s adorable and he suits you quite well
February 9th, 2009 at 11:14 am
I’m telling you, get a Chihuahua. They have many a baby-urge-quelling characteristic.
But you were awesome with the Wombat and he was the cutest baby ever.
February 9th, 2009 at 11:38 am
I totally hear you on this; I LOVE seeing bits of myself in my kids. I have friends who have adopted, however, and they will catch themselves seeing pieces of themselves in their kids too
February 9th, 2009 at 12:04 pm
baby looks good on you, moose
February 9th, 2009 at 1:15 pm
Moose, Honey, this will happen for you. Sooner than you probably think. Because of course it will. That’s how these things work. One day, you know in your heart that you’re ready and you deserve it and you’re wondering aloud when the Universe is going to get on board, but what you don’t know is that it’s already Out There and the Universe is on it and it’s YOU who’s not caught up yet. I promise.
February 9th, 2009 at 5:08 pm
It’s amazing how much babies seem to pick of from their parents general demeanor. Laid back friends have laid back babies, and stressy tense gotta stick to bed and feeding times friends seem to have stressed out babies.
February 9th, 2009 at 5:25 pm
I love these pictures, and your writing coupled with them. They made a pretty post baby, is what I’m saying, I think.
February 9th, 2009 at 5:37 pm
love those pictures, absolutely beautiful.
February 9th, 2009 at 6:56 pm
Lest this post mislead anyone, I’m actually quite happy with my baby-less status. I’d love a few years to do some more traveling (and hopefully find a partner) before heading toward Procreation Central. The single life quite suits me at the moment. In fact, I relish it. But eventually the ovaries will grab me by the nose and yell “YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER, YOU KNOW!”
February 9th, 2009 at 7:22 pm
That is one absurdly cute baby! It really is a wonder you didn’t run off with him.
February 9th, 2009 at 7:24 pm
great pictures!!! I have to say, holding other people’s babies are great, you can give them back when you’re tuckered out.
February 9th, 2009 at 9:53 pm
All hell broke loose today, and Wombat wouldn’t stop crying. I think he missed you!
February 11th, 2009 at 5:38 pm
I’m a first-timer, here from Leah’s blog. Which, I’m probably a first-time commenter there too even though I’ve read periodically for awhile lol.
Anyway, I just wanted to send some warm, fuzzy best wishes. Before I met my husband, I can remember having some very similar thoughts. I’d think “hey, I’m young,” and then follow it up with “look at that adorable baby, oh my gosh, WHEN DO I GET TO HAVE ADORABLE BABIES?” and I’d chase that with some “there’s always adoption if I don’t find the right man. I’d rather be a mom without a partner than never be a mom at all,” which, of course, would lead to “but I want to have at least ONE fight over whose nose the kid got!”
So. Warm wishes; that someone is probably out there wondering more-or-less the same thing right now.
February 16th, 2009 at 10:01 am
You sat on all of the napkins? How OLD are you people? LOL
Baby Wombat is a-door-bell!!
January 4th, 2010 at 8:58 pm
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