Just got back from spending the day with The Man’s mom, dad, brother, and almost-two-year-old niece. It was a fun day; we went to the aquarium and then out for dinner a great little tropical restaurant. It felt rather bittersweet, though.
Today was the day of babies. One best friend called to tell me that she was pregnant. The other best friend called to ask what the first friend had said (I kept the secret, so I hope to the gods that Best Friend #2 isn’t reading my blog right now). Then we chatted about BF #2’s almost 4 month old son. My rational side says that I have to be happy for both women; they’re both in happy, committed relationships, and both so ready for mommyhood. The pregnant friend is psyched to be preggers, and the already-mom friend seems to be doing just fine with her little handful.
But as happy as I am for them to BE happy, the circumstances themselves are really hard for me to be happy about. I’m not happy to be losing them. And I’m not silly enough to think that I’m not losing a part of my friends – let’s not even pretend that that’s not the case. I’ve lost the single fun party ladies forever. It’s too soon. I’m only 31; if I invested in Botox tomorrow, I wouldn’t even have wrinkles yet. I’m not ready to give up the only two people in the world who make me feel wild and free and adventurous. I’m sad. I’m pissed off. I know that I can’t tell this to anyone out loud ever, because it will make me sound like a spoiled brat, but that’s just the way it is. I’m mourning for my old life, and it wasn’t even my choice to change it. I feel cheated.
That’s just the thing, though. Maybe my life will grow richer and fuller as a result of new nephews and nieces. I will adore the hell out of these babies, because they’re extensions of my two favorite people in the world. And there’s nothing wrong with more love and slowing down a little. I love both of my ladies, and their husbands, and they all love me. I’ll make a great third wheel, when the chance arises.
As for me, after the phone calls, once The Man’s brother and niece showed up, we spent the day hanging out with a really sweet kid. She was scared of The Man, her uncle. He doesn’t know how to giggle, or be silly, or smile, and she tends to be uneasy with men who aren’t her father (which is totally cool – I applaud her honesty). She and I got along just fine, but kids tend to like me, and I think they’re OK, too. It’s just that, though – the whole time, I was thinking of how much more fun I could be having doing other things. Never once did I get that “this could be me” feeling, any yearning to move into childrearing mode. In fact, I was really glad for the day to be over and to be done hanging out with a child. Most of all, I was happy to be done with the uneasiness between the little girl and her uncle. The Man desperately wanted to get her approval, to get a smile or a laugh. At the end of the day, she let him kiss the little stuffed dog she carries around, and he was over the moon with happiness. He’s ready to be a dad. He’s looking at her and thinking that he could handle one of his own.
But I’m not ready. And not only am I not ready, I have a feeling it’s the circumstances that make me uneasy. Maybe I’m so desperate to stay young because I haven’t found the right person to grow old with yet. Just one more thing that I can never say out loud. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s all the opposite – maybe I’m not ready to make decisions because I’m so selfish and vain. Maybe I’m just as spineless as my photo…
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