I usually reserve this blog for things I know for certain. And prefer to have well thought out and eloquently written posts. But with news that a little one is on the way I'm finding it hard to put together meaningful thoughts - at least something more concise and profound than "holy shit!". So I apologize now for what will surely be an uncut and blatantly honest rant of my current musings about becoming a parent for the first time:
Have I just ruined a perfectly good thing? Life has really been pretty good already - get up at the last moment to zip into work, come home for adult cocktail time with hubby or catch dinner with friends, having time to volunteer and take dance classes or watch my favorite tv shows in uninterrupted quiet. Vacationing and quick weekend trips as we please. Will I regret giving up content life as a DINK (double income no kids)? Will we continue to live happily ever after even while knee-deep in dirty diapers and plastic toys?
Sounds terrible to admit, I know, but I never really liked babies. I was never one of those "all-I-ever-wanted-to-be-was-a-mom" kind of women. The only baby I remember playing with as a child was my Betsy Wetsy and was more entertained by turning her upside down to watch the food concoction ooze out of her mouth instead of in the diaper at the other end. And my barbies seemed more focused on working the ice cream shop or patrolling the pool for the day followed by a hot date with Ken instead of homemaking for a family. I'm the person who rolls their eyes in judgment or glares at unruly children in public. I've never oggled over babies. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of babies I've actually held in my entire life. Does this mean I'm lacking necessary maternal instincts? Will I be a wretched Mommie Dearest?
Speaking of, ok its vain, but, seriously, will I ever have the flat tummy and toned arms that I worked to keep all these years? I cringe at now having two categories of clothes in my closet - maternity and clothes I used to wear but perhaps will never again.
And the biggest realization I'm having is that maybe I won't do it like my mom did. She can be described in three words: sensible, calm, and fun. Two of which I am neither. She never really cries, I'll cry at a tv commercial (the same one, more than once). I never saw her breakdown, even when I was a reprehensible brat or when she juggled job, school, and being a mom. I really don't think I can keep it together like she did. I guess I'll be the big joke in our family, "There goes mom again - crying" or "let's just give her some space, kids"? And I'm scared that I'll get so wrapped up in responsibilities and living up to the "right way" to parent, that I'll forget what I had so much in my own childhood - to have fun and laugh.
I realize these feelings don't reflect very positively on me. Perhaps I sound a bit ungrateful. Now that a small bump is appearing, proof that a human is indeed on the way, I am beginning to let go of some these initial misgivings to some more happy and exciting thoughts: who will they look like, what will their little personality be like, can't wait to hear their thoughts and feelings and show them all the wonderful things this world has to offer.
Stay tuned for more as I face the ultimate in life lessons...
