It's not every day someone stands up at a family dinner and announces there's going to be a new bastard in the family, and it sort of feels like someone tied up a pretty little package all special, just for me.
The babymama is Mr. Twinkle's cousin, an early-thirties divorcee who comes from a long line of anorexic agoraphobics. She the one who always gets judged if she eats one too many mini cocktail hot dogs during the appetizer portion of these family evenings. She's been dating this guy. I don't really know his story. He's probably from the south end or some surrounding county or something. He's the kind of person who would think that announcing he has impregnated a family member with an illegitimate child is glorious news. Clearly he doesn't know his audience. They don't even like it when married people breed.
Well, to me, the news was glorious. Not only does it make my relatively unconventional (and also, somehow, totally conventional) union sparkle all the more brightly, but it's a baby. And a baby is always good news. Especially when both parents want it and are excited. So there's that, and the fact that this kid is a bastard is just icing on the cake for me.
It truly was the greatest announcement ever. Brian, the babydaddy, stood up during dessert and Mr. Twinkle and I thought we were going to witness some kind of south end proposal, but instead Brian said there was going to be a new member of the family. The room sat there in stunned silence, and Mr. Twinkle thought it was a little sad because he could watch the wind going out of Brian's sails. (On a side note, I have had the wind knocked out of my sails many times by this crowd, so Brian is my new favorite person for that reason alone). So...awkward silence. A few people clapped, but the stone-faced silence of the older generation made the halfhearted clapping that much sadder. No one knew what to do. I mean, come on people--at least act happy. Finally it fell to me, veteran prego and someone without any allegiance to the babymama's disapproving mother or grandmother, to jump up, cross the room, hug the babymama, and congratulate her enthusiastically. A few others followed suit, including Fun Sink, as I heard Grandma-In-Law across the room saying, "What's going on? Is she pregnant?" It was the best family dinner ever.
I can't wait to watch this drama unfold and hear what Fun Sink has to say about it. I mean, it's not the way I'd do things, but at this point there's no going back. Why not just be happy for them? They said they are getting married eventually, and the pregnancy was planned, but it just happened immediately when they started "trying." Now, that is something I might say to you all at Jack's after several bourbon cocktails, but it is so not the story I'd tell over Charlotte Russe at Mr. Twinkle's grandma's house. Plus, as I said before, despite my many shortcomings as a mother and a person (in Fun Sink's eyes), at least she can never say my children are bastards, or that I discussed their conception stories over coffee and sweets in front of the entire extended family. So, you're welcome for that, Fun Sink.
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