September 2010

Biological clocks used to make me laugh.  Think Kirstie Alley hanging from a giant minute-hand in Look Who’s Talking.  Think Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny stamping her foot on the porch.  It’s funny, right?

It’s so not funny.

I don’t know if it’s because a few of my favorite right-before-bedtime shows (Bones, Grey’s Anatomy, Mad Men) have added plot points around it, but lately I’ve been dreaming of BABIES.  I wake up WANTING them, sad that I don’t HAVE them.  I never thought I’d get to the point where I just wanted to go out and get knocked up – of course I wouldn’t because my brain is in charge – but my body sure wants me to.  I’ll be 33 next month; I think I’m pretty much on schedule for the freak-out.

You know, I never really figured I’d be susceptible to it.  It seemed like some stupid myth.  Frankly, I’d seen it more among men in their mid-thirties more than women.  I’d date these guys who were really obsessive about their lives having passed them by: they hadn’t become rock stars and all their friends were married with kids so they were totally surrounded by disappointment.  Poor things.  (Of course, I didn’t date them twice.)

I’m not bothered by the rock star thing – I love my life and I’m still pursuing my dreams.  And all my friends aren’t married with kids.  Some are divorced, some have kids, some don’t, some won’t.  We all turned out differently.  And it’s different for me because I have an adopted son, so I’ve gone through all the parenting stuff over the age of two.  I guess, for me, I always imagined myself married with (bio) kids by this time.  I guess I just assumed I’d find someone by now, and it would all take that amazing, natural path that happens most often in well-scripted Hollywood romances. 

I’m not interested in having that life for the sake of that life.  If it’s just me and my son, then I’ll just be happy with the life we have.  I’m still going to put myself out there and remain optimistic about dating.  I’m not going to run out and rut with an excellent specimen of a man (however tempting) just to have a baby.  It’s important to me that it’s about the person I’m with, and about creating a family with him – because of him, not in spite of him.  Not to mention, I don’t want to teach J that a father isn’t important in a (hetero) family.  There’s too much of that out there already.

Of course, I worry about turning into the stereotype: the crazy woman who finds a guy because her clock is ticking away.  But I’ve never been a stereotype in my whole life, so I’m not going to start now.  I won’t let it keep me up at night.  In the meantime, I’ll just settle for talking my sister into getting pregnant again so I can live vicariously through her.


Dear World of People who Read this Thing,

After the month (or two) of craziness that was the end of the summer, I have returned. 

Just to recap what happened:

  • My son turned 9
  • We moved
  • We were in a friend’s wedding
  • School started

It doesn’t seem like a lot on paper, but man, it was exhausting.  And expensive.  I fear my next credit card bill.

But the end result is that we are much happier.  Sooooo much happier.  We love our new apartment.  It is da bomb (can I say that if I’m white?).  It’s bigger, sunnier, and so perfectly placed.  J walks to school in the morning now, which he loves, both for the independence and the early exercise.  Last night we needed something from the store, so we rode our bikes to the market in the center of town instead of driving to Stop & Shop 15 minutes away.  Tuesday, when it was really hot out, we walked to the town lake to get in one last evening at the beach. 

We have this screened in porch that I’m working on outfitting with furniture.  Right now, it’s got makeshift tables, two collapsible chairs like the ones you bring to soccer games, and two green, glass lamps that give it an eerie glow at night.  Sometimes, J and I read out there.  Sometimes he does his homework there.  Sometimes, we just chill out and talk.  The cats love it; it’s the closest they’ve ever been to freedom (I’m surprised they haven’t figured out how to slit the screen with their claws and make a break for it).

The kitchen is huge and I love it.  I just got a new stove (the old one was awful) and I’m putting it to the test tonight with a bake-a-thon the likes of which I have never attempted.  I found out that the bake sale at our town’s annual “It’s fall in New England so we’re putting on an event on the town green” is being held to raise money for a local girl who needs some expensive medical treatments, so I decided to challenge myself to bake as much as I possibly could in one night.  I even made the dough in advance.  I’ve got four different batches at home in the fridge, and I’m going to make breads and pies, too.

I’m definitely trying to get more involved in the community this year.  I’ve never done that before, and I’ve lived a lot of places.  This year, I’m going to co-lead J’s cub scout den, and I’m going to help out with the troop.  I feel like I’m starting to belong.  I think J feels like it, too.  It’s nice to know so many people.  The last year has been harder than I imagined settling in, and I’m glad it’s all starting to gel.

I think this weekend I’ll get out our Halloween decorations.  I’m relinquishing my last bits of longing for summer, and embracing the fall.  For the first time in ages, I feel relaxed.  It’s a beautiful sensation.