When I was 8 years old, I fell at recess at school and broke my arm in to pieces. It was pretty serious and I spent a good deal of time in surgery and in the hospital. Non hung out with me during the days (and she used to yell at the mean nurses AND eat my lunch for me—she really rocked!). My entire family felt really bad for my sorry self, so they offered me anything I wanted in the whole world.

I yearned. I coveted. I daydreamed of only one thing. One magical thing that would make hours of physical therapy and three surgeries, plus days in traction and a few steel pins, better.  

I needed a Cabbage Patch Kid.

BUT, it was the beginning of the Cabbage Patch craze, so there were none to be found anywhere.Trust me, word went out across the entirety of Pennsylvania and most of Ohio, as well as New Jersey, that a Cabbage Patch Kid was needed in order to cure my deep pains. Upon the realization that every Cabbage Patch on the East Coast was sold and waiting in parents’ back closets for Christmas (it was October), my Aunt Judy, Queen of Awesome, agreed to find me one. Rumor has it she got it from the Black Market Cabbage Patch in upstate New York. I’m almost not kidding.

Babyland General Hospital is where all Cabbage Patch Kids are born (Actually, that’s a big, fat lie..because Jack’s CPK has the words “Made in China” emblazoned on the back of his head). Babyland General Hospital also happened to be really close to where we ran away to last week.

Coincidence, I think not.

As any good child of the 80′s, I was completely giddy about this adventure. Friends were texting me so they could live vicariously through my Cabbage bound self.

We drove 5 hours and 18 minutes to the exact spot where Babyland General was…only it wasn’t there. We couldn’t find it. It was missing.

My heart broke.

Then we realized that they actually built a new and improved–modernized—Babyland General Hospital 3 miles up the road, and life was better.

This place is palatial. Not even kidding. It’s part plantation, part castle. Unreal, for real!

You enter the front doors (while angels sing) and are greeted by 2 lovely older ladies, wearing retro nursing scrubs, complete with white hat. Upon signing in, you are ushered to a giant, plush Cabbage, where they will take your family photo. J pitched a fit and refused to sit on the Cabbage until I cried about how this was a childhood dream coming true, and “Hello? I took you to a giant HIPPO conference and never batted an eye!”

I now have a lovely photo of her sitting with me and Jack in a giant, plush Cabbage.

Post Cabbage photo, there are glass cases of original Cabbage Patch Kids that are for sale, for the mere price of $15,000. (Um, Timothy Herman, where are you?) From there, you wander through the nursery until you reach a big atrium.

It’s Cabbage Patch Mecca. There are literally hundreds of heads popping out of Cabbages to choose from. These Cabbages are all around a humongous tree. And they move. So, you’re watching a bunch of Cabbage’s with heads of dolls…moving back and forth.

This was when I started thinking maybe this was a bit strange.

Just as I am telling S that I think we should just grab Jack a baby from a Cabbage and run, the loudspeaker says, “Dr. Blake, Mother Cabbage is 10 leaves dilated. Return to the tree STAT!”

No…NO! They were NOT going to birth a baby from a Cabbage in front of me.

(oh yes they were.)

Dr. Blake explained all that he was going to do to the Cabbage in graphic detail. Such graphic detail that I was borderline uncomfortable. He even shot a laser down the Cabbage’s vajay-jay and the tree turned BLUE…indicating that Mother Cabbage was birthing a boy. However, Granny in the front row, paid $200 for that baby fresh outta Momma Cab, so it miraculously changed genders before emerging.

It’s so surreal, we took video for you viewing pleasure (And because I know you secretly want to go to Cabbage Patch Land too…).

Mother Cabbage Gives Birth

(Also, can I just say—all my intentions of teaching Jack about adoption went out the window when I reached the Land of Mother Cabbage…Non was right–some things are too priceless to ruin with too many words!)