Babies smile at me. Toddlers seem to like hanging out and doing stuff. Older kids are usually willing to actually converse (kind of a big thing, I’ve heard). My egg quality is declining and my ability to express empathy is increasing.
Clearly, the stars are aligning. I’m minutes away from getting baby fever.
Or at least that’s what I imagine.
“Tomorrow I will want a kid of my own” runs through my head. Regularly. As do other tomorrow goals, like “I will eat less cheese” and “I will only hit snooze once” and “I will dress better.”
Yet whichever tomorrow is holding said goals clearly is not here yet.
I still eat cheese every day – usually twice. I still oversleep. And I still grab those black pants with a saggy butt when I know I should go for the tailored skirt.
Perhaps most frustrating for my mother, I still am not ready for kids. Even though I totally love them.
I have a friend that visits every summer. He’s pre-teen, and I hugely look forward to him staying. We plan fun outings, grocery shop for things that don’t come pre-packaged or pre-cooked, and I use the stove instead of the microwave. He and I go to bookstores and talk about science (in layman terms – so I understand) and find odd museums to visit for “cultural experiences.” I line up XBox time at friends’ houses. Postpone my pedicure. We take public transit; he pretends to understand why.
In short, we have super fun times.
But even still…I start to wonder about sitters…and where I might find one. I develop mad cravings for cheese-based meals (nachos, quesadillas, etc.) that can only be found at establishments catering to 21+ crowds. I want to nap after work. Or go to happy hour. Even a dance club sounds fun.
All of which makes me feel guilty. And selfish. And really hungry for nachos.
Then he leaves. I forget about the kid stuff spread all over the house, the shows I had no interest in, and the kid-friendly movies we watched. I don’t see the remnants of spilled blue jello and don’t think about how my vintage glassware is now one more cup away from a full set.
In fact, I miss him. As soon as he’s gone, I think of how much better everything was while he was here. And that maybe it’s a sign….maybe I’m close to being ready for kids.
Maybe. But then again, I’ll likely be closer to ready tomorrow.
Every day another story -
Sofie
