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Pique n' your interest

Biological clock gets temporarily louder

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Can you guess what’s making that noise?

Let me give you a few clues. I’m fast approaching 30 and I was at a baby shower last weekend.

It should be crystal clear by now what’s making the noise.

Clearly, that ticking and tocking is the sound of my biological clock.

Oh, that other sound that you hear is my boyfriend bolting for the hills but now that he’s no longer reading, and presumably has left town, I can wax on about motherhood and this biological clock that just keeps getting louder.

Long dead, my biological clock reared its ugly head as soon as the first little baby sleeper was unwrapped last Sunday afternoon.

You can’t even imagine what the woolen booties did to me.

And the handmade baby soap from the Sunshine Coast that smelled just like the top of a baby’s head almost put me over the edge.

I want one – a baby that is, not so much the soap.

Just as a good wedding makes you think the words "settling down" aren’t so bad after all, a good baby shower shifts those maternal urges into high gear.

After all, you get to wash the baby in lovely baby soap, wrap it in soft cozy blankets, shower it with kisses on its bald misshapen head and, best of all, dress it up in those booties!

It just looks like so much fun.

So, I got to thinking about it. How would I cope if a baby suddenly became a part of my life?

And so I tried to imagine the baby factor squeezed into my last weekend just to see how much fun it would be.

Last Saturday I was down in the city with a few friends and our ultimate goal was to go sea kayaking in Deep Cove and watch the fireworks at night.

So the day started off with lunch in one of those small trendy downtown restaurants where the tables are all crammed together and the milkshakes cost $6.

I don’t know how we could have squeezed a baby chair or a stroller or any kind of baby contraption into that restaurant. More importantly, I don’t think a baby, with all its potential for screaming and crying and smelling, would have been all that welcome in this restaurant.

Lunch was followed by a mad dash across the city to do a few shopping errands (namely, pick up the baby shower gift). Fortunately we knew what we needed. We jumped out of the car, ran into the store, debated briefly on the merits of the gift, paid for it and then ran back to the car.

Time was of the essence at this point because we wanted to get on the water.

Factoring in a baby, our time would have easily tripled. We’d have to get the baby out of the car, into its stroller, lug it around the store. And of course there are always all the unforeseen things that happen with a baby around. It may need to be changed. It may need to be fed. It may need to be held.

Without the baby however we were soon on our way to Deep Cove.

I don’t suppose it would have been too kosher to prop the baby up on the beach while we paddled around the water for three hours hoping that the tide wouldn’t come in.

I don’t suppose we could have left the baby at the kayak rental place as collateral for our boats and simply exchange baby for boats when we were finished.

And so the only thing I can think would have happened in this scenario had we had a baby with us is that everyone else would have gone kayaking and I would have been stuck on the beach with the kid. This is my hypothetical baby after all.

Hmmm, that doesn’t sound as much fun as exploring Deep Cove on a sea kayak underneath the setting sun.

We didn’t linger too long in Deep Cove as the fireworks were still to come. So in another mad dash we rushed back to the city, rushed to the supermarket and the liquor store and made it back to a friend’s balcony overlooking English Bay just in time for the fireworks to begin.

I don’t really know how a baby would have coped with exploding lights over the sky as the music from the radio, cranked at full volume, beat a time to the fireworks.

And we still hadn’t eaten yet, choosing to BBQ after the fireworks instead. I don’t know if a baby would have been too keen on the nine-hour time lag in between its feedings.

And then we slept, four of us in the living room, stretched out on the hardwood floor. Again, I don’t think a baby would have cared much for the sleeping arrangements.

The next day we had to rush back to Whistler to get one of our friends to work for his morning shift. With no time for breakfast, we just managed to squeeze in a coffee at the gas station. Are babies OK with a little lukewarm coffee for breakfast?

And so when it comes down to it, my imaginary baby would have been left outside a restaurant, carted around shopping without a moment to spare, left to its own devices on the beach, gone deaf and hungry and had a sore back like the rest of us – hardwood floors are murder on the back – and would have been hopped up on caffeine.

It turns out that those booties just don’t look as cute as they did a few days ago.

No, that’s not quite true – they’re still adorable but they’re even nicer when they’re on someone else’s baby.

So I decided to quash my biological clock for the time being and satisfy my maternal yearnings with some light babysitting duties. Although I suppose after this column I won’t be getting too many calls for babysitting anytime soon!