I got married in 2010. It was magical. The perfect finale to a year full of weddings. My own plus nine others made a grand total of TEN from May to November. It was the greatest year of my life thus far, albeit expensive beyond my wildest nightmares. My weekends were full of filet mignon, buttercream frosting, open bars and dancing until my feet hurt because I refused to switch to flats.
I woke up on a miscellaneous morning in November feeling nostalgic and slightly depressed that my wedding hayday had come to a close. What was next? World travel? Buying a home? Or a puppy? Learning to speak another language? Perhaps, simply basking in the glow of newlywedhood?
Babies. Babies were next. The summer of love had turned from real life bliss to an amazing memory and baby craze was instantly upon me. Friends from all angles were suddenly "trying" or "officially trying" (the difference alludes me). There was the subtle switch from coffee to decaffeinated tea and the not so subtle switch from mimosas to orange juice.
I don't know much about babies. Not much at all. I know even less about pregnancy. Yet, I'm finding myself surrounded by cooing infants and sprouting bellies. And so, it's hard not to talk about and think about what I imagine of the year that will someday rival last year's greatness (note the word "someday"). In the wedding season aftermath, I want to learn another language and maybe get a puppy. And, I must admit, I'm thoroughly enjoying this baby craze that surrounds me. It's a lot of fun.