How to drive someone crazy from 1100 miles away

09 February 2009

This is so going to be so worth it.

Howdy, kids. Long time no post. I'm sure you've gotten along fine; you certainly do look well.

My best friend is preggers. I'm pretty psyched. Nothing like more children in my life that I can love and adore without the pesky task of raising them correctly. Being Crazy Aunt Lisa is a wonderful thing; I get all the fun and zero headaches. Now, don't get me wrong; I worry about the little buggers. It's just that when Cyn is having a mom-freak-out that her teenagers are hanging with the wrong crowd, I get to be the one who actually is the wrong crowd. I have dibs on teaching all her children to swear properly and sneak out their windows without being heard throughout the house.

One very cool aspect about Cyn is her sense of nostalgia. When she wanted to learn to spin, she went for a spindle not for ease of use or portablility, but she said to me "because that was the first way to do it." She gets back to basics while maintaining thoroughly modern. She takes advantage of technologies, but is pleased and able to shun them when it is her longing to do so. I know people who couldn't get through their day without their tv, iPod, cell phone, laptop, PSP, whatever, but if Cyn were transported through time to an age before electricity, she could mesh right in, no problem. After temporal displacement wore off, of course.

This has something to do with her sense of wonder, I think. She and I agree that there are not enough mysteries left in our day-to-day lives and that has made people impatient, malcontent, and ungrateful. Twenty years ago, if you woke up in the middle of the night and for the life of you couldn't remember the name of the horse in The Never Ending Story*, well, you'd just have to deal with that until you ran into someone who would know, or ran into a video store and read the back of the box in hopes that it would be there, or wait until it came on WGN in a mid-Saturday movie to remember. Or it would come to you out of your own sense of cognition! Imagine! Now, we just check Wikipedia, and blammo, instant gratification. No patience, no communication and subtle connections formed with your friends, none of that. Just Wiki and back to bed. Something about this can't be good for you.

She doesn't want to know the gender of the new little one (whom we are simply calling Poppie). Can you picture the general madness all around her? Her mom is completely losing it, her friends are busting their seams, and she is stressed out enough with pregnancy and real life happening around her that
she doesn't need this crap. She believes she will know in good enough time. She believes that this mystery will inevitably solve itself. She wants to reconnect to some of the magic of pregnancy that has maybe been stripped away by our impatience to buy pink or blue things for the baby. She is going to truly savor that moment in delivery when the doctor shouts "It's a {insert appropriate gender here}!!!" while for other mothers, that triumphant cry may only be a formality.

It's her pregnancy, her baby, her decision. I think she should run this special time in any way she sees fit. I think she has a good bit of support from her husband on this, as well, but I get the idea he'd really like to know, too. Honestly, I'm not 100% on where he stands with the whole issue of his issue, but I do know he doesn't appreciate his wife being harassed about it by friends and family. I think she should do what she wants. She is Sensible Mommy, and Sensible Mommy should always prevail when it comes to her children.

Don't get me wrong. I would love to knit for this baby. I would love to make dainty little dresses or manly little sweaters and hats; love to tease her about names and whether the Handsome and Charming nephew has a brother or sister. I'd also like to know. But once you know, you know forever, and not knowing only lasts until you know. I like the idea that we will all know soon enough. I may be the only one, but I fully support this decision she's made for her pregnancy, and revel in it. Which brings us to our final point of irony.

In a fit of "dear Lord,
someone should know", Cyn had her doctor write the gender on a paper and seal it in an envelope. She thought she might be able to keep it safe until a little later in the pregnancy (she's due June 21), but temptation may get the best of her. She thought maybe give it to her husband, but as soon as he knew, she'd be able to tell what it was, as they see each other every day and know each other fairly well (tee hee). So, of all people, she is mailing it to me. Because I'm strong enough to not tell her. Because I am far enough away and not expected to be seen until after Poppie comes along. Because I support her in this. So, I'm going to do my best to not open the letter. Of course, I want to open the letter. But do I need it for my own convenience and to satisfy my own curiosity? No, not really. But the world does need more wonder. I'm throwing mine in.

What would you do?


*Artax. And in case your thought processes go the same way mine did, the Luck Dragon was Falcor.