BabyBjorn or Bikini Wax?

My dearest friend is pregnant.  Because she lives in Texas and I live in New York City, then I will not be able to make it to her shower, but I deeply wish I could.  I do realize that if I were there, I'd be a huge part of the excitement and pre-baby preparations.  I'd be working on a scrapbook or learning to cross-stitch or crafting something that was worthy of hanging on the wall.  I'd rack my brain for the perfect, sentimental, keepsake-type gift.  One that would make her weepy during the shower.  Not that it's hard to make pregnant women cry, hold up a pair of tiny crocheted booties and the tears start to fall. 

But, amongst the practical gifts; the onesies and bottles and diapers and burp clothes, I would offer the most thoughtful thing I could think of.  I would have crafted it, spent hours making it or somehow gone out of my way.  It would be a tangible reminder of our friendship.  Not that practical gifts are bad.  I am usually the one who buys the baby wipes and bibs and hooded towels, but this is my dearest friend.  I love her.  

If I were in Texas I'd have helped paint the new room, I'd use a stencil or do a tiny border if she wanted me to, even though she's a better painter than me.  I'd hang the Noah's ark window valance and help put all the tiny clothes on the tiny hangers.  I'd probably be throwing the shower, ordering duck-shaped cookies and planning silly games where you guess the sex of the baby.  Why? Because I'd want to.  But I am here and she is there.  And I will just be forgoing my bikini wax this week and will instead, pick out something from her registry at Babies-R-Us.  Something boring like a bottle warmer or changing table sheets. 

She is having a kid.  I am not really thinking that I want a kid any time soon and I feel like, once again, my friend is somewhere I am not.  This time she's the one moving, not me.