Tag: kids

What’s that sound???

That sound? That ticking sound, like a bomb threatening to detonate?  Holy crap, I think it’s my biological clock.

So.

After the failure of my long-term relationships (being an adult sucks sometimes), I’d pretty much given up on more kids really.  I’d convinced myself I didn’t even want them…even though we all know I’ve wanted a whole freakin’ tribe of my own all along…but every turn of the calendar page told me to shut that dream down, be done with it.  Not gonna happen.  You don’t want it.  You never wanted it.  Throw it away.  Forget it.  And so I did.

Or I thought I did.

Today, in my post-Vegas jet-lagged confusion, I forgot my lunch at home and had to go out for something.  Found myself at IHOP, tucked away in a corner where I could at least see trees and daylight for a little while.  A few moments after my order was taken, a family was seated in the booth opposite mine.  A baby girl in a hot pink tutu was placed in the high chair at the end of the table.  I tried not to look…not looking, not looking…omg I’m looking! And this sweet toothless girl in her hot pink cute ensemble is staring at me and smiling.  So I wave.  And she waves. And I wave. And she blows me a kiss. OMG!  All the wishes for a big family, for being mom to a whole herd of kooky kids, for some kind of reliable male partner, all that was set free in the instant that kiss was blown at me by this fuzzy headed little creature.

And now I’m just kind of an emotional girly mess.  The clock is ticking loudly.  Time is wasting, time was wasted on people who had no intention of every trying to be a family.  There is a window of time left where I could have my own kids, but that window seems so short, especially considering I’m missing the reliable male partner portion of the equation, the one who helps change diapers and helps make ends meet and wants to be a part of this whole thing.   I turn 40 next week and the biological clock is starting to sound more like a cuckoo clock in my head–was I cuckoo for wanting the kids and the partner…or was I cuckoo for not figuring out a way to do it on my own? Either way, I feel cuckoo, emotional and kinda overwhelmed.  Life has a way of working out and you never know how your dreams will come to fruition…but I am feeling skeptical about this one.

I’m not hell-bent on more kids having to be my biological children.  I could foster.  I could adopt.  I need more money and more time, though, than being a single parent paying all the bills provides.

I’m sorry if the sound of my ticking clock disturbs all of western NC.  I thought I’d pulled the battery out of that clock and tossed those out long ago, and that the clock was on lockdown in a vault somewhere.  Blame the sweet little kid in the tutu for my emotional chaos.

gimmegimmegimmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I took a bit of the money my office had collected for the foster kids we sponsor at the holiday to do some shopping; I needed to track down some shoes, a coat, stocking stuffers and a “Fur Real” Friend toy.  Minime goes with me to do this shopping each year, and she tells me every December that it’s her favorite part of Christmas.  Even though she’s well-versed in this exercise, I reminded her as we went in the door o’ the local ‘Mart that we were shopping for the kids in need, not for ourselves. 

Minime nodded as the second set of automatic doors opened, and then her eyes glazed over as the retail buzz hit her system…I didn’t even have a shopping cart in hand before she’d run off to a display of pajamas.

“Mom, we’ve got to get these soft flannel pajamas.  They are so cute!”

“Yes, they are cute, and yes, we love pajamas, but number one, you just bought new pajamas two weeks ago and a new robe last week, and number two, we are not shopping for ourselves tonight.”

Minime pouted only briefly before she was distracted by a display of shiny satiny sequiny holiday tops.

“Mommmmmmmmmmmmm, you’ve got to get me one of these! In blue! And in green! And maybe white.  Can I get one?”

“No.”

I pushed the cart onward, resolute and determined that we were getting what was on our list and only what was on our list.

We would make it about two steps before I had to hear “I’ve gotta have…” or “This is so perfect for me…” or “Get me one of these…”

By the time we made it to the toy department after I “no” “NO!” “NOOOOOO”ed my way through the shoe department and the selection of winter outwear, I thought my head was going to spin all the way around as I growled “nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo” through clenched teeth at the request for an IDog, then an IPenguin, then a stuffed animal that is just “too cute, ohhhhh it’s so cute.”  I got a reproachful glare from another mom pushing her sleeping toddler around in a cart, and I thought, “oh honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet–you wait til that tike of yours is asking for Dolce and Gabbana couture in addition to every damn thing in the local retail superstore, see how much zen-like calm you can muster up then, sister.”  I smiled at her through clenched teeth, which in hindsight probably made me look rabid, but whatever.

Minime and I both lived through this shopping experience, even though she continued to ask for things all the way through the checkout line…”gum? can i get gum? what about skittles? you like skittles.” ACK!!!!!!!!  We made it to the car.  When I sat in the driver’s seat, I turned around and just gave her a look.  THE LOOK.  The scary evil parental look of I am so pissed I am out of words, child.  I turned back around and off we went into the night.  Kiddo didn’t utter another peep all the way home. 

 

Blech!

So this morning, I was returning a loaner child bright & early, so we could go and get the next loaner child (I was meant to have more kids, but it didn’t play out, so we borrow extras all the time!) for our day’s adventure.  I was running behind a little bit, given that loaner child number one and Minime were sleepy, grouchy and completely dragging ass.  Didn’t have time to feed them a proper breakfast, so I cruised through the McD’s drive thru (“No, you’re getting whatever’s 2 for $2, shush!”) to grab them some chow and some caffeine for me.  I ordered a bucket or a trough or a silo of the sacred and much needed Diet Dr. Pepper along with their breakfast and zoomed on down the road.  After throwing biscuits over my shoulder to the younguns, I poke the straw in and take a big gulp of OHMYGAWDTHISISNOTWHATIORDEREDGROSSSSSSS sweet tea.  I promptly spit most of it in the middle of the steering wheel, given that not only was it sweet tea which I do not drink, but it was still warm sweet tea, which ups the nasty ante about 110%.  What I didn’t spit on the steering wheel I managed to spit into every napkin McD’s gave us.  Blech! BLECH!

I don’t drink sweet iced tea.  Or unsweetened iced tea.  I’m sure I could lose my southern belle credentials over such an admission; I do, however, like grits, so I should be able to retain my standing.  Even though I don’t drink it, I’ve done enough time in food service that I’m told I make a lovely pitcher of sweet tea in my own home…and if it’s very sweet and very very very cold, I can take courtesy itty bitty micro sips of sweet tea if that’s what I’m served at someone else’s house.  But I surely can not drink it still warm when I was anticipating the fizzy goodness of a Diet Dr. Pepper bright and early on a Sunday morning.

I noticed on my road trip today, the middle of the steering wheel is still a touch sticky.  I wonder if I can sue McD’s and have them detail my car?  I’m going to call Joel Bieber right now…

Minime & Kat ponder “definitely maybe”

Minime and I watched Definitely Maybe this morning.  It has Ryan Reynolds in it…who somewhat scares me a little in every movie (even comedies) ever since I saw him in the Amityville remake.

Anyway, the point of the movie is Ryan’s character Will telling his daughter the story of the big loves of his life, how he met her mother and where he is in his life now that they are divorcing.  The story spans years, with one character who keeps reappearing in the story.  April (played by Isla Fisher, perhaps best known as Borat’s baby mama?) is the bohemian smartass that weaves in and out of the tale…and she loves Will but the timing is off.  The day she comes back from months of traveling to tell Will she loves him, he’s proposing to someone else he met while April was gone.   More time passes and when Will (typical slow draggin’ ass male) finally comes to tell her he loves her too, she’s cohabitating with some other guy.  And so it goes, back and forth, time passing, weddings, careers, kids, divorces.  Of course, it has a Hollywood ending (spoiler alert) when Will’s daughter tells him she just wants him to be happy, so together, at the very end they go and get the girl.

Minime wanted to ponder and reflect on this movie, so here’s the dialogue that went down on the couch as the credits rolled a few minutes ago…

The Kid: Hey, do you think that ever happens or is it made up?

Me: What?

The Kid: That people don’t marry the one they really really reallllllllllly love.  Will loved the girl’s mommy that he married, but he loved April in a better way for a longer time.

Me: Errrrrrrrrrrrr…Yes, I guess.  I think people marry people they love, but maybe not always their one great big true love.  Maybe.  I dunno.

The Kid:  That’s stupid to do.

Me: Uhhh, yes, but it happens.  (this is the part where I deftly try to change the subject) We should go out to lunch!

The Kid: (The Kid is even more conversationally persistent than I am, and she’s not done) I’m not hungry.  Why would people not marry their big love person?  That’s just dumb.  You marry your big love person and have babies and smile at each other a lot.

Me:  Errrrrrrr…Just like in the movie, honey.  Timing, I guess.  April loved him, but he was with someone else because he didn’t have any idea at all that she loved him.  But then he knew, and when he was ready to love her, she’d moved on.  Let’s go to IHOP!

The Kid:  I don’t want to go to IHOP.  Why do people move on?

Me:  Errrrrrrrrr, wow, kiddo, you’re killing me a little today! I guess people move on because no one wants to be all alone, and maybe they’re afraid they’ll never get to have that, what did you call them, “big love person.” They’re afraid they’ll never have that person.

The Kid: Crap, that’s stupid.  Of course you can have your big love person, but sometimes you have to wait a long time, like in the movie.

Me: Don’t say “crap,” you’re not allowed to say that.  Maybe so, kiddo, maybe so…and I think we’re going to skip romantic comedies from now on, ok?

The Kid: No, you need to watch them so you can figure love out.  (and with that, Miss Priss bounced off the couch…)

OH MY GOD.  I think my kid just schooled me on life and love as she flounced off to straighten her hair.  And I think………………………………………………………………………..sigh, sigh, sigh.  I think I’ll just rent all the Death Wish movies tonight to wash all this nonsense out of my brain.