As a public service announcement today, I feel obligated to inform those who didn’t use assisted reproduction that a turkey baster is not, in fact, the implement of choice. Even when using the do-it-yourself method of insemination at home, a special syringe is the way to go.
That’s not to say one can’t still get a few laughs by brandishing a baster at one’s sweetie with a gleam in the eye. Alternatively (especially for those who are single), we can wander into the kitchen where our parent or other relative is cooking, point at the baster, and ask, “May I borrow that? On an unrelated note, have you ever wanted a[nother] grandchild [niece/nephew/cousin]?”
Of course, you shouldn’t make turkey baster jokes to a lesbian or bi mom if you don’t know her well, or if you don’t know how she created her family. (We also have kids through adoption, surrogacy, and different-sex relationships.)
Personally, though, I like to pretend there’s a little part of the holiday that’s honoring how my spouse and I created ours (though it was in a doctor’s office with hi-tech equipment, not a $6 item also used for hydrating roast fowl). It may be silly, but there are precious few ways our families are acknowledged in our society. I’ll take what I can get.
Posting will be light here for a few days as our family will be stuffing ourselves with poultry and pie. Best wishes to you and yours.
