I just returned from a weekend in Arizona to meet K's new addition. There were times over the last forty eight hours that I thought I was going to actually eat that child, that's how freaking cute she is. There's nothing like a newborn baby to waken whatever latent maternal instinct a woman in her thirties might have within.
As we sat by the pool yesterday, the conversation was decidedly different than in the last few times I've gone to visit. I learned the pros and cons of the 'pump and dump'. I saw that my new tankini is not all that much different from K's maternity swimsuit (which only made me love it more). We discussed books we're reading, and people we hadn't seen in years, and memories of a time when a 7:30am flight home would have been out of the question, no matter how cheap the ticket was.
We did this while passing Ella around and around, taking turns making her smile and trying to get her to keep that darn passy in her mouth. While trying to decide what would suit the baby's schedule better-- take out or cooking dinner at home. While not thinking, even for a split second, that there was anywhere more fun than where we were at that moment.
I think this is how a woman in her thirties knows she has grown up-- when her idea of a vacation doesn't involve strangers in bars and drunken conversations. When she can spend a whole afternoon rejoicing in her friends' happiness. When she truly enjoys the simple comfort of spending time with her girls, old and new.
And when her only wish for her friend's new baby is for a lifetime of friendships like ours.