The Gambler

I walk the line between wearing my heart on my sleeve and keeping things close to the vest. I’m sure I’m not alone on that line. One of the things that I’ve had on my heart lately is babies. And I’ve been keeping very much to myself about it.

I have always wanted a bigger family, at least more than 2 kids. My brother and I are 4+ years apart and were never very close. Sure, we had our childhoods together, but at some point it felt like we were two only children whose paths sometimes crossed, usually at our shared bathroom in the morning. And growing up Catholic, I saw enough bigger families than mine and the grass over there looked a little greener to me.

So I had it all planned out: meet Mr. Right (no later than college, of course), get married young, have lots of babies, live happily ever after.

God had a good laugh at my plan!

So when Fella and I started getting serious and making our plans for the future (God wasn’t laughing as much this time,) we settled on more than one (Fella is an only child and he didn’t want any of that for his kids), but no more than three.

It took awhile after the Mayor was born to get back on the more babies bandwagon. There were times that I would have been totally OK if he had been the Only. Even if the Mayor himself was telling me that he wanted me to have 15 (or was it 20?) more babies (that kid LOVES him some babies!) But Fella being the only of an only child, he didn’t want the Mayor bearing that burden.

So along comes wonder of wonders: Miss Thang. And everyone thinks it’s perfect: two—that is, one of each. So you’re done, of course…right?

When I was pregnant with the Mayor, I dreamed about having two boys. Maybe that was just another funny thing my brain was doing while the rest of me was sleeping. Regardless, pretty soon after Miss Thang, I still felt like there was still another person to add to our family.

However, I’ve been crunching some numbers. OK, maybe not exactly numbers, but time. There’s too much going on in the near future that I would rather be not pregnant for. And besides that, there’s the whole being host to another human being for 9 months (although I do love being pregnant. Mostly). Then the next year/+ on this side of the womb before they can eat real food and walk on their own. Hell, MT just hit two and she’s like the toddler version of a Stage 5 Clinger.

You know, autonomy is a really, really nice thing.

I didn’t think I’d be thinking about this much before MT turned two. But certain events accelerated the process a little bit and here I am, elbow deep in wondering if I still have it in me to have another baby. Not only have another baby, but to have three kids! I mean, that’s just crazytown! There is just no way. And as soon as I think I’ve decided that I’m done--enter crisis mode. 

So we know about the quarter-life- and the trusty ol’ mid-life crises. But this is something different. I focused so much energy in my life on getting to the part where I would have kids, the prospect of not continuing to have more kids is...it’s an existential crisis all of its own.

Let’s call it: the Post-Reproductive Crisis.

I mean, what is my purpose in life if not making more tiny humans? Yeah, yeah, I’ve still got those two other little people I’ve already breathed life into to tend to. But their childhood is finite. As is the family planning stage of life, I keenly realize. But to still be in my child-bearing years, looking my lady parts dead in the ovaries, and giving them the finger? I just. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN???

So that’s where I’m at right now: between the proverbial know-when-to-hold-‘em and know-when-to-fold-‘em.

Meanwhile (in heaven)…God holds the cards and laughs heartily.

On the Eve of a Second Birthday

You’re speaking more and more clearly these days. I keep thinking how much I will miss hearing you work your way through words. Like how you still say "ssshicken” instead of kitchen (and chicken, for that matter), or “ogurt” when you want yogurt, among others that I fear I’m already forgetting.

I feel a sense of guilt both when I correct you and when I don’t.

And I can’t quite tell the difference when you’re asking to go potty or go party. The past few days it’s definitely been the latter, though you refuse to be pigeonholed as a party girl. Already making good choices!

"Oh gosssh," you say and shake your head from side to side.

Just two days shy of your birthday, you really pulled out the big guns with the first “love you, Mama!” Here, have ALL the presents. Don’t think for a minute I didn’t notice you working on your dad with a “love you” at bedtime tonight.

That hair!

Those eyes!

She’s so smart!

Not a day goes by that we don’t hear these things lauded about you. Based on this alone I could say you’re a triple threat, lest I be forgetting that you are already quite a songstress (that little ditty you made up about your shoes today? Grammy worthy!) And whether it’s Toddler Tunes or Party Favorites that we’re listening to, you always keep the beat (perhaps a Tony in your future?)

ETA: We've definitely hit this milestone right here:

I’ve lost track, but last I checked you were spontaneously counting to 15+ the other day. Funny, no one remembers teaching you so many numbers! Colors, on the other hand…well, we’ll work on those, along with the last 2/3 of the alphabet. Don’t worry girl, you got this.

I’m guessing you picked most of these things up from the Mayor. It helps in the learning department to have a big brother. I can still remember spontaneously learning the state capitals when I still shared a room with your uncle. And play the piano. I’m sure he thought I was a snotty little show-off when I’d sit and play by ear what he’d just been toiling over in an hour of practice.

Don’t let that deter you, though.

Sassy Pants. Lady Lu. Missy Mae.

My girl…TWO!

As Real As It May Seem

I had the funniest dream last night. 

A boy I'd known since about the Sixth Grade was in it. Except we were in high school. We earnestly expressed our mutual "like" for each other. The following day we would meet an alumni-sponsored event for Chico State. We both knew we weren't remotely interested in going to college there, but we would go anyway, if for no other reason now than to have a sanctioned event at which to see each other (as if our puppy love were somehow forbidden? Possibly. You got me.)

When I arrived the next day, the boy was already there, politely sitting on the couch, waiting for things to get underway. Instead of nervously avoiding the boy out of insecurity (which would have been a classic me move IRL) I sat down next to him. He sweetly held my hand without reservation.

More people started to arrive, including one of my besties from law school, who sat in the empty spot on the couch next to me. Apparently California had quite the effect on her: the blushing brunette southern belle was a radiant golden blonde in my dream. We joked about it, but actually, it looked pretty fantastic on her (in case you were considering it any time soon).

Of course she was the only person to notice the hand-holding. She gave me a knowing look, but saved her goodnatured teasing for another time and place.

Though a handsome and nice kid, I don't recall ever having an actual crush on the boy (which is surprising because I am was pretty boy crazy). He came across as shy, but he also had this quiet assurance about him. As if he knew what his future had in store for him and he was merely biding his time in that forsaken place we call high school.

This dream highlighted things I wish most for my kids: may they always have treasured friends (the gold and silver kind), the quiet confidence to pursue their heart's desire, and faith in what their future holds.

Learning to Love Myself

My mom’s group has recently started the Momnipotent study. This week’s episode started with this:

It reminds me a little of the time when I was single and trying the online dating thing. The site I was using at the time had you engage in compatibility Q&A prior to sharing your picture and personal information. Things were going fine until the question: How important are looks to you?

I couldn't even.

So I didn't. I closed my account, got my money back, and went on my way. Alone again.

The question was double edged for me. First, it could have meant that looks were important to the man asking. Second: And I? I was just average. Perhaps even slightly below average (a Perfect Four), depending on who you ask (me) and what mood they are in (insecure. Always insecure). Third, it could have meant that he was (heaven forbid) of even lower than slightly below average visage. And fourth, that it actually mattered to me. It was a sticky question that hit on all of my triggers. And, if memory serves, I was only able to answer Yes/No with no opportunity to explain. And there was plenty I could explain (clearly).

Did I digress?

So this Momnipotent session starts by asking about our self-worth as women and mothers. And this is definitely an area where I struggle.

Most of my life, I didn't feel lovable. I thought that if I could just find someone (not my family) to love me, hell even just "like" me, then I might be able to believe that I am lovable. That I am worthy of love. And for so.many.years. I went without.

And for just as many years--more, actually--I hated myself. I wanted to be someone (anyone!) else, so long as they were lovable.

Even since I've found the love of my life, the man who loves me back, I've continued to harbor this self-loathing. Because my exterior doesn't meet my definition of beautiful. I hate. I judge. I continue to fail.

And what's more, I have already seen the Mayor expressing that he doesn't feel lovable. And I know he has picked that up from me, whether or not I express it outwardly. These tiny human mirrors can pick up on the tiniest of details!

So it's time that I work harder to fix the broken me. It's time that I learn to love me, the whole me. The me that promoted me to my most coveted job and vocation in life: mom. The me who carried two beautiful, healthy babies with ease. It's time to believe that I am a beautiful and should treat myself as such.

What are ways you celebrate your beauty?