Mom, Dad, we have something to tell you...
Nervously squeezing my partner's hand under the restaurant table, I looked at my parents, and told them I had something to tell them.
I had been worried about telling them for weeks and now, even though I didn't think it was exactly the right time, I had to tell them.
I couldn't think of another logical reason that I could give them for skipping my beloved glass of Shiraz. Surely, they were going to ask.
"Mom. Dad. We have something to tell you."
"You're going to be grandparents in August."
I studied their faces. My mom looked shocked but within seconds, she was jumping up from the table to hug us. My father got up and hugged me and shook his future son-in-law's hand.
My mother didn't know why I'd had butterflies about telling them such happy news: A first baby. A first grandchild. They're such beautiful, powerful phrases all on their own.
I think I was nervous because I felt like I was just springing this important news on them. In just a year and a half, I'd given myself a full-life makeover. Gone were my single carefree days when I'd drop hundreds of dollars in one day on hair, clothes, and lunch downtown with my girls. I was no longer just looking out for me. I'd started a new, complicated life with an older man who already has a family. We'd decided to share one car, my car, to save money. We went out for family dinners and planned family vacations. My downtown apartment lifestyle was no longer going to be able to accommodate our expanding brood. We needed a house. A large house fit for five people, plus friends, plus extended family.
And now, on top of all of this insanity (some might call it growing up), we are having a baby.
Of course they had a million questions: When did we find out? Who else knew? When is the due date? Do we know if it's a boy or a girl? Do we want to know? Names? Would the baby have my last name or his? What was the baby's first name?
I answered as many questions as honestly as I could (keeping in mind not to tell them too much so I wouldn't gross out my father). I told them we'd known for about two and a half months. No one else knew. The baby is due at the end of August. When we do pick a name, we're not going to tell a soul, not even our families and the baby would have his father's last name so that all of his children have the same surname. And I told them I'm sure, just based on a feeling, that it's a boy - to which my mother responded that she was sure it was a girl. It's a little unnerving proclaiming that our baby is a boy because if I'm wrong, I'm going to look like a bad mother, a bad mother with no intuition.And so far when it comes to baby, I've got a bad track record. I've been wrong before: I was sure that my parents were going to be shocked, speechless, even scared. I was, after all, doing this out of order. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby carriage but with us, the baby is coming before the wedding. But my parents are ecstatic. My mother has already claimed crib-buying rights. Circle your calendars: Aug. 27.
I had been worried about telling them for weeks and now, even though I didn't think it was exactly the right time, I had to tell them.
I couldn't think of another logical reason that I could give them for skipping my beloved glass of Shiraz. Surely, they were going to ask.
"Mom. Dad. We have something to tell you."
"You're going to be grandparents in August."
I studied their faces. My mom looked shocked but within seconds, she was jumping up from the table to hug us. My father got up and hugged me and shook his future son-in-law's hand.
My mother didn't know why I'd had butterflies about telling them such happy news: A first baby. A first grandchild. They're such beautiful, powerful phrases all on their own.
I think I was nervous because I felt like I was just springing this important news on them. In just a year and a half, I'd given myself a full-life makeover. Gone were my single carefree days when I'd drop hundreds of dollars in one day on hair, clothes, and lunch downtown with my girls. I was no longer just looking out for me. I'd started a new, complicated life with an older man who already has a family. We'd decided to share one car, my car, to save money. We went out for family dinners and planned family vacations. My downtown apartment lifestyle was no longer going to be able to accommodate our expanding brood. We needed a house. A large house fit for five people, plus friends, plus extended family.
And now, on top of all of this insanity (some might call it growing up), we are having a baby.
Of course they had a million questions: When did we find out? Who else knew? When is the due date? Do we know if it's a boy or a girl? Do we want to know? Names? Would the baby have my last name or his? What was the baby's first name?
I answered as many questions as honestly as I could (keeping in mind not to tell them too much so I wouldn't gross out my father). I told them we'd known for about two and a half months. No one else knew. The baby is due at the end of August. When we do pick a name, we're not going to tell a soul, not even our families and the baby would have his father's last name so that all of his children have the same surname. And I told them I'm sure, just based on a feeling, that it's a boy - to which my mother responded that she was sure it was a girl. It's a little unnerving proclaiming that our baby is a boy because if I'm wrong, I'm going to look like a bad mother, a bad mother with no intuition.And so far when it comes to baby, I've got a bad track record. I've been wrong before: I was sure that my parents were going to be shocked, speechless, even scared. I was, after all, doing this out of order. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby carriage but with us, the baby is coming before the wedding. But my parents are ecstatic. My mother has already claimed crib-buying rights. Circle your calendars: Aug. 27.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home