Wednesday, April 26, 2006


Have you ever had one of those moments where something happens and suddenly you get, like, a really clear view of what your life is going to be like, say 20 years down the road?


Clearly, you're living too clean a life.

No, actually, what I'm referring to is a BIG moment in the FinnyKnits household that came about last night as I was driving home from yoga. Ok, so it was technically a BIG moment in Leeloo, but let's not get nitpicky.

I called Linda, one of my best friends from college, to check up on her and her new baby, Ms. Emma (you remember, I made them the Nappy Bag). Emma and Lin had a semi-rough day -- apparently Emma was feeling the pressure of her 3-week-oldness and had kept mom and dad up most the night reminding them of how life was passing her by while she slept soundly in her crib. No more! Well, by the time I talked to Lin, Emma had thankfully worked out her issues and was content to retire to her crib for the evening. Phew.

So, Lin and I had a chance to catch up for the week, talk wine tasting trip (hello, new mom needs a drink, too) and basically review all things new now that their house is Baby HQ. I'm steadily getting used to the talk of breast pumps and feedings and cholic and earaches so that I can converse like a semi-educated human being despite my lack of experience with anything baby related.

Now, I'm not sure if it's been my recent education in baby repertoire or the fact that I can whip up a diaper bag with moment's notice, but I'm honored to announce that Linda and her hubby have asked Finny and Hubby to be Ms. Emma's Godfolks!

I know, it's a SHOCKER, since we are baby-impaired, but I'm hoping hubby and I can rise to the challenge and be a good Godmom and pop.

So, what's with my crystal ball vision? Well, I was just out visiting Lin, pre-Emma, and we were sitting around her mom's coffee table, drinking Bud Light, playing "Celebrity" with family, friends and her godparents and this is the first image that flashed into my mind when she asked us if we'd Godparent her wee one.

Imagine -- what if, 20 or so years from now (ok, closer to 30-fine) we're all sitting around HER coffee table, playing a future version of "Celebrity" (no one will have heard of Britney Spears by then, hopefully) and Emma is the one who's prego and I get to be just like Lin's godmom who was laughing and carrying on and loving every second of her Godmama-ness like it was no one's business? What if that? Well, personally, I think that'd be pretty sqweet.

Plus, isn't she a doll?

Ok, she's only like, a day old in this picture
but still, she's cute even when she's shiny and exhausted
and being palmed by Grandpa Dan as though she were a
regulation NBA basketball.

So, crystal ball, please make sure that in this 20-years-from-now image, I am the hilariously funny, socially inebriated, Vegas-traveling jokster that Linda has been looking up to since she was small. Except I'll be drinking Coors Light instead of Bud Light and making lude comments about my own Hubby rewiring the guest room ceiling fan.

Would it be inappropriate to wear an "Emma's Godmama" T-shirt on my next visit? Perhaps instead I'll get started on a blanket or something less ridiculous.

1 comment:

  1. Such an honor -- and I can't think of anyone else more deserving. Very cool!


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.