There goes another one.
They're succumbing faster than hot Krispy Kremes left in the office pantry and I can't keep up.
So many of my friends are changing, and it's a sudden thing that keeps taking away my breath. It really only started as a trickle about 2 or 3 years ago. Now, it's epidemic.
They are becoming moms. Or dads, depending. Parents, let's say.
These little buggers they're popping out are cute, I'll admit. But, darn it, most of these friends of mine, once they have that slobbering bundle of diapered cuteness waddling around in their arms, suspend communication with the outside world. They spin cozy little cocoons of family bliss, don't return my calls and confound me by morphing into unfamiliar, very responsible adults overnight.
My friends are vanishing into the realm of parenthood and all I can do about it is grab my broken size 5s and shower them with stupid blankets that they won't ever use anyway. I can't even finish one Log Cabin before another little darling makes her early appearance.
It's a good thing, I know. I mean, Circle of Life and all that. They're bravely producing the Next Generation to keep up this madness churning away on the globe, so whoohoo and all that.
But at the heart of it all, I'm a pretty selfish person, I guess. Don't hate me and please don't be offended if you are one of the aforementioned parent/friends. I mean you no harm. But I miss the nights we'd stay up until 2am, drinking and crying and giggling as we whispered silly secrets and confided our darkest desires (which were actually never very dark, but always thrilled us with seriousness in our alcohol haze). Now, my friends rush home by seven, obsess about babysitters and spend hours comparing notes on formula and which baby store clothing sizes are accurate. When I see them, we don't chat about those things we used to. It's all about the baby now and what milestone she's reached. And I hold her and play with her and, yes, I love to feel her little fingers grasp mine. It's amazing when she pulls my hair and babbles to me (to me!) in her syllabic baby language.
But we don't discuss anything about our own lives any more. Every second of our attention, each moment of conversation, is riveted on Baby.
I've seen it happen with dogs, too. When my friends adopt a puppy, I mean, that squirmy creature foils all other topics of discussion as it leaps and licks and jostles us around the room. I can only assume these friends are in training for the Baby Years.
But do you know what? I can tell you one thing for a fact. These friends of mine are the absolute best people I can imagine to repopulate this planet. They are, each and every one, role-model parents, mostly because they do obsess over bottles and breast-feeding, pre-pre-kindergarten and the right lotions for their baby's backsides. They are intelligent, kind people who will pass their compassion on to their children. The way things are going right now, we need all of that we can get.
I watch them parent and witness every trait that drew me to them as a friend blossom and mature as they nurture their little ones and push them gently closer to joining the world.
They have come into their own as parents.
I still wish I didn't have to knit another baby blanket. But who can look at this photo of beautiful newborn Sydnie and her gorgeous mom and resent even a single stitch? Not me, not for a second. I guess some of the problems are that they're too tiny and innocent and they smell too nice and they always look just like their parents, the friends I love and miss. I want to shun them for taking away my friends. But instead, their sleepy smiles melt my heart. I knit and I cuddle and I coo and I watch them grow up to be just like their moms and dads.
Welcome to our little circle, Sydnie. I'll have your blanket done next month so try to be patient.
And let your mom and dad come out to play sometime, will you?