If there is one comment I get a lot, it’s, “Wow, your kids are 13 and 3? Ten years apart? That’s such a big gap!” Because child-bearing is such a touchy issue, I usually like to put people at ease and give them the information they want without putting them in the uncomfortable position of having to point-blank ask me, or ask someone else.
These are my responses:
1) “I know, 10 years. Crazy, right? And even crazier? It’ s the same father for both kids.”
Everyone thinks I’m on my second marriage. I’m not, but hey, that is often the case with two kids who are so far apart in age and I’m not judging. But I’m kind of proud of the fact that my husband and I have been married for *537 years (*possible exaggeration) so I try not to get defensive. Besides, it’s kind of obvious, my older girl, Charlotte “looks like Rob spit her out”–as someone once said in reference to how much they look-alike–so he is CLEARLY her father.
Beatrix, on the other hand, is the “spitting image” (more spitting imagery) of me with light hair, so I sometimes tell people I had an affair with a Norwegian soldier during Fleet Week. It’s not true, but it’s fun for me to watch people’s reactions. I usually tell them I’m kidding. Usually.
2) “Beatrix was actually planned, and was not an “oops” baby.”
This clarification became a part of the list because one of the first people I told that I was pregnant was Rosie O’Donnell’s brother Ed. Okay, maybe I need to explain that. I was under an option contract with KidRo, Rosie’s company, for my book (see side bar if you don’t know that I wrote a book, Oh! And an “option contract” means they owned the rights to the story to sell for TV or film). Back to Ed, I felt it was important he knew I was pregnant in case anything happened with the option and I was needed to, oh I don’t know, fly to LA to “take a meeting with a network” (this never happened but was very fun to think about, despite the pretentiousness of saying “take a meeting”). Ed’s reaction to my pregnancy news was a quick retort, “Oh, so, is this a margarita baby?” Having no idea what he meant but being a lover of Mexican food (especially when pregnant), I was instantly intrigued and salivating yet nauseous (welcome to pregnancy). He explained that a couple he knew went out for Mexican, had too much to drink, and the 9-month-later result of their debauchery was what they lovingly referred to as a “margarita baby”. I let him know there was no margarita involved in the making of this baby. Based on Ed’s story, I did entertain the name Margarita Meffe for a while, along with Crystal Meffe (say it out loud, Meffe rhymes with Jeff) while Rob pushed for triplets named Steph, Jeff and Beth Meffe.
3) “No, there will not be another baby in 10 years.”
I was pregnant for my 30th birthday and pregnant for my 40th birthday, so I am planning a blowout drunken brawl for when I turn 50. Drugs, booze, sexcapades, the works. One small note, I do fantasize about making a lot of money and adopting a little boy…..but as
Rob likes to say that if I do that I will be doing it alone (but, to be fair, he also says that about getting a dog, and I will eventually win that argument. Current dream dog—Goldendoodle) Dogs and adoptions aside, I’d never get pregnant again, let alone at 50, despite Kelly Preston making it look like it’s no biggie to have a kid at any age. I’m not trying it, thank you very much.
The real story of how Beatrix Jane Meffe actually came to exist in the world is a story that was written, directed and stars a precocious 9-year-old, named Charlotte Meffe. I’ve decided to break this story into episodes because I was recently informed that people are more likely to read short blog posts that are posted regularly (Thank you, Brynn). So, even though it is “My Own Space”, and I like to write in big chunks (I’m used to writing chapters because I write books), dear reader, I will break it into installments for you. We’ll call them episodes, just so it sounds fun and feels more like a TV show.
(Insert catchy and fabulous TV theme song here).
There is a really famous bookstore in Manhattan called The Strand. You might remember it from a Woody Allen movie called Hannah and Her Sisters (Note the use of Sisters–which is foreshadowing for those of you reading this for college credit). The Strand is on Broadway in the East Village, just south of Union Square. Basically, the cool part on New York. (Read-not where I live.) It’s far and a little hard to get to, so I don’t go very often. That said, it is important for you to know one very important fact.
Beatrix was conceived in the children’s section at The Strand.
Don’t get nervous, this isn’t the story of a tryst with a Norwegian sailor at The Strand.
To read the next blogisode of this series, go here: http://wp.me/p1zRyr-1T