juno, not like the city in alaska

My mom, my brother, and I went to go see Juno yesterday after several days of intense family together time. Despite the fact that I hate my job, I'm sort of relieved to be off the hook as far as hanging out with them all day today. I will be sad to see my brother go back to school, but saying goodbye to him also means saying goodbye to the requisite extended stays at my parents house.

One of the things that my family does very well is watching movies, lots and lots of movies. And cook. And eat. It's the genetic obligation of Italians. Christmas Eve is always the candlelight service at church, then the traditional meal of Italian sausage and fried potatoes, which we eat while indulging in the annual screening of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. My mother always forgets how we cut the potatoes, diced or sliced, and excessively reminds me not to burn the sausage. This year, my dad, after professing that he wasn't sure if he would ever darken the door of a church again, actually attended the candlelight service, which certainly increased the peace in my nuclear family.

Christmas day this year was a big different than normal. My brother and I stayed at my house after the movie and watched Bad Santa. We slept late, and after years of my brother and I waking up at the crack of dawn as children to open presents, gifts did not begin to be opened until ten a.m. And I was actually the one that desperately needed coffee, even more than my dad. The gifts were lovely, my mom succeeded in finding new Pez dispensors for John and I, and I actually had gifts under the tree that I hadn't picked out myself. After gifts, the rest of the day was cooking, lots of cooking. French toast for brunch, while the sauce gets going. Meatballs cooking while the french toast is consumed. Lasagna assembly. My mother acting as if I've never assembled a lasagna before in my life. Delicious smells. Setting the table. Finally, champagne. Dinner. Wine. Conversation. Cookies. Coffee. Sleep.

And we found ourselves at the movies to watch Juno on the day after Christmas, after my John and I spent the morning watching a marathon of Rock of Love. It was such a great movie. Ellen Page plays Juno, a very sarcastic, very rock and roll sixteen year old after my own heart, who just happens to get pregnant her first time out to bat with her geeky yet adorable love, Bleeker. She decides to have the baby and give it up for adoption, and the movie shows her journey through the pregnancy and navagating through relationships with her parents, Bleeker, her best friend, the adoptive parents, and the bitchy ultrasound technician. It was very funny and very touching, despite the subject matter, the movie didn't take itself too seriously while still showing real human joys and disappointments.

What was most interesting to me was that at this point in my life, I could distinctly relate to Juno as she muddles through her teenage angst and this unexpected dilemma. I could also strongly relate to Vanessa, the potential adopted mother, who so desperately wants a child and must rely on the whims of a sixteen year old girl, who can't possibly understand the complications of giving up a child, to provide her with the baby she knows she was meant to care for. I realize I am somewhere in between these two women in life. My ovaries are kicking into high gear, I swear I can feel my uterus contract when I see a baby, it's not crazy weird any more when one of my friends gets pregnant. I found myself at dinner the other night with a newly pregnant woman, and immedietly offered my babysitting services to the unborn child. I have to admit that biologically, I've got some kind of baby fever. But I'm still Juno. Afraid. Terrified of being alone. Ill-prepared.

My mother wouldn't stop looking over at me during the movie, clearly checking to see if I was tearing up. I know she's ready for grandchildren, and I sometimes wish that I were in the same position as some of my friends who have found it in them to "settle down". But I cannot escape the feeling that I just want to take my time. I know that eventually I might have to freeze an egg, but I'm OK with that. Thank goodness for the miracles of modern science. Right now I'll just sit, and wait for, as Juno puts it, "the cheese to my macaroni."