6:30 Sharp; Babies, New Life Included
In her pink, smocked linen onesie (that was decidedly NOT cocktail length), Parker arrived at the West Village cocktail party. It was her first. That’s us, over on the left-hand side of the picture; I’m wearing a turquoise mini-dress (once again, NOT cocktail length), clutching my baby, trying to feed her the last drops of dinner so I can tuck her into the bassinet and mingle.
My arms ache, sweat beads down my back because of the little body pressing against me… But, “You’re out!” I think. “You’re with adults, talking about New York things,
nibbling on blue cheese crackers, gazing from the 12th floor out onto the lights of 7th Avenue.”
I reach for another thick, silver dollar-sized cracker. These are good, definitely going in the book, I think. In French, their name is Epaulets de Bleu d’Avergne–basically, the fancy, blue cheese version of cheese straws. Jamie and I have experimented with the recipe all day long, hoping that they’ll be good enough to make it into the book. They’re just salty enough, the crumb is fine, a bone-dry Chablis would be the perfect accompaniment…
For two minutes, I don’t have a baby girl. My boyfriend of three years is a dozen blocks north, slaving away in a kitchen, trying to prove himself to the boss from Lyon. When he gets off from work at midnight, we’ll head to Blue Ribbon for bone marrow, steak tartare and a few glasses of Bordeaux. Tomorrow, I’ll get up early, test recipes and write all day…
And then I move my eyes from the string of lights to a tiny, pink body across the room. Parker is asleep in someone’s arms. I have a baby, a husband, limitations– and love– in my life like I’ve never had before. Delicious–and overwhelming.
