The Perfect Gift

Last weekend I went on a Sister Date with, as you might have guessed, my sisters. As I'm the youngest, I often ask my sisters for advice on things like husbands, kids, my life's purpose, and what's supposed to be in fashion (not that I pay much attention to fashion. It's just nice to know what I won't be wearing this season.)

On this date, pregnancy was on my mind. It had occurred to me that Bellatrix had hinted that she wanted to come for a visit, but didn't actually ever show up in December. One day she rang the bell, and I warned my husband that he could snuggle up to me now or never again--at least not for the next week--because soon we would have a house guest. For some reason, pronouncements like this have an effect somewhat like narcotics on my husband. I didn't even have time to say, "Are you in the mood?" before he dashed to the bedroom, hollering to the kids, "We're having a meeting. Don't bother us for awhile." Then he closed the door and locked it, laughing to himself while he did so. 

The next day I gathered some candy, a few good books, tested the heating pad, made sure I was stocked up on ibuprofen, and waited. But Bellatrix didn't come. She didn't come the next day either. Or the next. And because I was so busy having a tizzy over Christmas, I forgot to think about her. 

So last week, when I realized she never showed, I wondered, if by some holiday medical miracle, I was pregnant. My initial reaction to this thought was "Oh, crap!" Don't get me wrong. I love my children. A lot. But I'm pushing forty, had my last baby eight years ago, and am seriously enjoying not having any bums to wipe, bottles to warm, or breasts to pull out in public to feed a hysterically hungry child. And don't get me started on how much I cherish sleeping longer than four hours at a stretch. 

But on the positive side, I was looking a bit plump in the midsection. It might be nice to attribute my gut to having a bun in the oven rather than admitting that I ate too much during December. And during my three pregnancies I did enjoy not having to suck it in. Pregnancy would explain my nausea and why I have more zits that my teenage son. Also, having another child would pretty much give me a purpose and a direction for the next five years while I waited for the kid to go to kindergarten already. That might be nice. For a week or two, anyway. Until the post partum depression set in.   

So I asked my sisters, "Could I be pregnant?" 

My sister L. said something like, "I don't think so. Didn't you guys have the operation?" Yep. When the last kid came out, my husband and I decided to ensure that we would not get pregnant again. A few snips later, a weekend on the couch with a bag of frozen peas, and we thought we were in the clear. 

My other sister M. said, "You never know." She was right. You always hear stories about people who get pregnant despite vasectomies and/or tubes tied in double knots. Granted, those stories are often in The National Enquirer, but they could be true. And it would be just my luck that, seven years after The Snipping, one lone sperm with a craving for eggs over easy slipped through the pipes and hooked up with one my girls. 

But then, a miracle happened. That morning, my sister M. had given me the perfect gift, a Bellatrix Lestrange t shirt. She thought I could wear it when Bellatrix visited--you know, to give the people living with me some explanation for my behavior. I held it up to myself and showed my husband. "I can see the resemblance," he said. For some reason, I wanted to throw a green pepper at his head, which is what I did when I was pregnant with our first child. Having no green peppers handy, I just said, "Thanks a lot," in my most sarcastic voice. 

 

Later that night, I discovered that I am not pregnant (whew). Bellatrix showed up, this time for real. Turns out the t shirt has magical powers. Just touching it will call Bellatrix to my house. And when I wear it, I want to curse everyone around me. Why, just last night I snapped at my youngest while I was making dinner. Recognizing my witchy voice, my husband stepped into the kitchen to deal with the situation. "Everyone just be quiet," he said, staring at me, his eyes wide with fear (or perhaps sarcasm, I couldn't tell which). "Don't make any sudden movements, and maybe she won't hurt us," he told the boys as he moved slowly toward the plate of chicken on the counter. Lucky for him we were still out of peppers. 

P.S.

I'm considering getting the complete Bellatrix outfit. It's not really my style, at least not during most of the month. But it would make a nice ensemble for those days when I'm feeling especially wenchy. It's kind of reminiscent of Wonder Woman, don't you think?  
 

 P.P.S.

I didn't take these pictures and I didn't get paid to endorse these products. I found the photos on a company's website when I Googled "Bellatrix t shirt." I think the company's called Hot Topic or something. 

Comments

[michelle]

That was so funny! Totally unexpected ending. Thought for sure I was going to be able to bring all of my baby stuff to your doorstep since I am ready to clear it out of my house! (I am still wiping bums and noses on an hourly basis...)

[Nicole]

One of my fav. posts ever!

[MaryB]

Hmmm...Maybe an outfit for Dominatrix Wonder Woman. Ya-Hot Topic scares me sometimes. The kids love that store but I can hardly stand to go in for more than just a few minutes. I got your shirt at Wal-Mart...sometimes it's scary there too!

[Julie B.]

Oh, I miss you guys so much! I need a sister date!