Time to Grow Up
One thing I really hate is baby pressure. I know that I am turning 34 this month, but I have not yet been married a year. I know that my age means I should be popping them out soon, that I should be yearning for a baby, that it is expected of me. And I think that I do want kids, but knowing how drastically my life will change once we do decide to go for it is scary. I like the freedom of sleeping in. I like doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. I like not having to worry about babysitters, or packing up the stroller to go to the grocery store. I am not good with big, bulky things. I can barely navigate myself through the narrow aisles now, when I'm just carrying a purse. I also am not good with a lot of noise. Crying babies make me anxious. And what about vacations? Does this mean that it will be Disney or child-friendly places from here on out? I mean, it is a lot to think about!
Sometimes I'll get the itch... when I see an exceptionally cute baby in an adorable outfit. And I like holding babies, when they are a bit bigger than newborn. In addition, I totally love kids... when they can walk and talk and you can reason with them, or just ignore a temper tantrum. I find their cuteness to almost be too much for me to handle... my nephew in his touch football uniform or my niece dressed as an angel for Halloween can almost make me cry. Then when that kid likes me back, it's the best feeling ever. Babysitting my nephew and having him come to me to be held was again, just too much, too cute.
Then I think about the whining, the diapers, the neediness. Never having a moment of quiet, or time to myself. Becoming too focused on the kid and forgetting about stuff that I like to do. Being a mom takes over. Wearing sweatpants because I don't have time to shower or the wherewithall to make myself pretty. Eating the kid's leftovers, standing up. Advice from my mother, or worse yet, my mother-in-law, about how to raise the kid. I don't do well with being told what to do. Birthday parties every weekend (no, thanks!) and mommy groups. Talking about lactation and strollers. It's just not me. I don't look forward to being pregnant (I know a lot of women who love it... love the attention, love the idea of a baby moving inside of them), or giving birth (again, there are women who want to feel every cramp... for me, bring on the epidural and keep the drugs coming!), or the first month when I will be surrounded by people all with their own ideas about what I'm doing wrong while learning how to be a mom. Knowing me, probably all while battling post-partum. Again, bring on the drugs... I am no Tom Cruise!
I think it was easier when there wasn't so much room for choice. Back in the day, you got married and you had kids. No choice. Less time to think about whether or not this would be something we want. I think I need to throw caution, and my birth control, to the wind, and see what happens next. I think that in the end, regardless of how cold and realistic this post may sound, I will be a good mom. My selfishness will wane and I will love my kids like every mother does. Happy that they are healthy and reveling in their unique personalities, my day made when they are content, taken care of, sleeping soundly through the night.
Sometimes I'll get the itch... when I see an exceptionally cute baby in an adorable outfit. And I like holding babies, when they are a bit bigger than newborn. In addition, I totally love kids... when they can walk and talk and you can reason with them, or just ignore a temper tantrum. I find their cuteness to almost be too much for me to handle... my nephew in his touch football uniform or my niece dressed as an angel for Halloween can almost make me cry. Then when that kid likes me back, it's the best feeling ever. Babysitting my nephew and having him come to me to be held was again, just too much, too cute.
Then I think about the whining, the diapers, the neediness. Never having a moment of quiet, or time to myself. Becoming too focused on the kid and forgetting about stuff that I like to do. Being a mom takes over. Wearing sweatpants because I don't have time to shower or the wherewithall to make myself pretty. Eating the kid's leftovers, standing up. Advice from my mother, or worse yet, my mother-in-law, about how to raise the kid. I don't do well with being told what to do. Birthday parties every weekend (no, thanks!) and mommy groups. Talking about lactation and strollers. It's just not me. I don't look forward to being pregnant (I know a lot of women who love it... love the attention, love the idea of a baby moving inside of them), or giving birth (again, there are women who want to feel every cramp... for me, bring on the epidural and keep the drugs coming!), or the first month when I will be surrounded by people all with their own ideas about what I'm doing wrong while learning how to be a mom. Knowing me, probably all while battling post-partum. Again, bring on the drugs... I am no Tom Cruise!
I think it was easier when there wasn't so much room for choice. Back in the day, you got married and you had kids. No choice. Less time to think about whether or not this would be something we want. I think I need to throw caution, and my birth control, to the wind, and see what happens next. I think that in the end, regardless of how cold and realistic this post may sound, I will be a good mom. My selfishness will wane and I will love my kids like every mother does. Happy that they are healthy and reveling in their unique personalities, my day made when they are content, taken care of, sleeping soundly through the night.
posted by Tracy at 8:17 AM
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