Archive for December, 2008

Twins make me melt

December 24, 2008

My friends’ twins are beyond adorable! See entire Flickr set from Black Pearl 10. I’m smitten and hope to get to meet them in January!

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Pregnancy test personality crisis

December 20, 2008

So, um, yeah. Last Friday I took a pregnancy test. Somewhat reluctantly, but also at that point where you cannot think about the possibility any longer or your head will explode. Everything I read online said wait until you miss your period, but I’ve always been way too impatient to wait for much. My friend Gloria told me to just go get a test. So I did. A three-pack.

From practically the moment I peed on it, it said negative. And that should be enough. We did it when I was at the end of my period on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend (November 29th), which should make me safe, right? I think so, and yet…I feel like I have been gaining an inordinate amount of weight. I have also been eating at least a cupcake a day and hardly exercising but aside from the cupcake I generally eat pretty healthily and have my vegetable attacks and must go stuff as many in my mouth as possible.

Being in this unsure state makes me feel so stupid. When I was 17, and also, I think 18, I was so paranoid about pregnancy. I used at least one form of birth control and would get my period and still think I was pregnant. But then, well, adulthood happened and this year, I kindof lost my mind.

Either way it’s not looking too good because either I’m just getting really fat (and I’m single) or I’m pregnant (and I’m single). In some ways the single thing doesn’t really bother me, or at least, bothers me less than I’d have thought because I don’t think my most recent ex was parent material, at least not right now, for me. I wanted him to be and wanted to turn us into this really settled down, homey loving couple, like his cousins who we went to visit in Austin. I kept thinking I could glimpse that future for us if I looked hard enough, if I shifted my head and squinted and stood on my toes. Even when a million red flags smacked me across the face, I thought I could handle it, thought that trying to relive some crazy father/daughter mixed up relationship in a new incarnation was a good idea.

And it wasn’t, not at all. There’s more to that that I can’t get into here, but it’s confusing because to me, part of being a good parent is having good judgment, and I don’t know if I do. It’s not that I blame myself for falling in love, that happened, but I made choices that were unhealthy, that don’t make logical sense, and that’s not the kind of person I want to be.

The main thing trying to visualize myself as a mom has done is make me realize where I’m lacking, as a person, where I don’t stand up for myself, where I take things too personally, where I take the easy, lazy way out. Where my life is truly falling apart in ways I can’t reveal to anyone. It’s scary because every year I seem to vow to myself that this year I will get my life together, will stop dilly-dallying, will move forward, and then I don’t. I felt like maybe J. was my last chance to do that, to find someone who would want someone like me.

It makes me cry just to think about it, not him per se, but me, my own faults. It’s not just what romantic partner would want me, but what child would want someone so messy, so haphazard, so in debt, so fucked up, for a parent? Like with my ex, I want to believe that love is all you need, but it’s not. You need stability and a baseline of contentment that I just don’t have. My life feels way too chaotic and pressured and ultimately not about things tsha tmake me happy. I produce words that don’t matter at all, that are so frivolous and dumb, and then the few times I do things I’m proud of, they seem to go nowhere.

I know that’s not a permanent state. There are so many things I’m looking forward to professionally in the new year but sometimes it’s hard to just pause and be happy about them. I bought a gratitude journal last week, and also another to write down my writing goals and progress, but haven’t written in either yet.

I’ve been trying to think about how, in real terms, my life would change if I found out today that I was pregnant. It’s so big to even contemplate, cause it would mean moving. It would mean throwing out all the useless crap I’ve collected and so stubbornly cling to in a literally unhealthy way. It would mean trying to figure out how to earn a living with a child. It would mean probably facing my family’s disappointment in me. It would mean that, on one level, I’d be getting exactly what I want – not just a baby, but a chance to start over, to leave the girl I despise behind and become someone new. To finally cross “sex writer” off my list and spread my wings.

But then I have to ask myself why I can’t or don’t or won’t do those things now. Why I always require a severe crisis to create change in my life. I don’t know, and again, all those things I’m not proud of are the things I’d be a ashamed of making a child live with, someone as messed up as me. And yet…I would change, I know it. I would rise to the occasion and I think a small part of me kindof hopes that will be the case, that I’ll be forced to change, to excise the parts of me that make me cringe, the bullshit “persona” or whatever you want to call it. I don’t believe in that and the people I love and admire don’t believe in it, but I know it’s out there. I guess I just want to be able to look in the mirror and be proud of who I see, however many lines show up on that stick. The reality is I’m probably just PMSing and hormonal. I’m also still coming down from the breakup, from adjusting to talking almost every day to basically not at all, from caring 110% to…a lot less, to letting his life take a backseat to mine. I know that the way I feel right now, sick and empty and like nothing I do will ever be the right thing, is not okay. Of course it’s not. And I hope I have some sort of ability to pull myself out of all the situations making me feel this way to become someone I am proud of in 2009.

Cute and funny kids

December 10, 2008

I’ve been silent here despite my best intentions to blog daily because I’ve feared I have nothing to say. I could tell you about the very cute little girl who sat in front of me on BART on Saturday. I was reading a book and she had this toothy grin and kept peeking over the seat at me. I couldn’t help but smile back and she gave me the biggest, hugest, sweetest smile in return. We played peek-a-boo and I let her hold my book, and later my iPhone. I showed her photos of cupcakes and my cousin Adam on it and she was happy. There as a moment where I just wanted to touch her hand, to connect on that level, too, but her parents thought she was bothering me and moved her aside. Later, when the train started, she was happily clapping her hand against the window and so excited, and somehow, so was I.

My main issue with even writing this blog of late is that motherhood seems SO far away. My boyfriend and I just broke up and he was the first person I’d ever dated where we actually discussed the topic. Maybe not in the most realistic of ways, but he knew I wanted kids and I still love him but my not being sure about his interest in being a dad, let alone abilities in that regard, was a factor too. I don’t know, though; maybe I will suck as a mom, maybe I won’t do as well at is as I think I will, as I want to. I figure when I do get pregnant, I’ll have however many months to figure it out.

I came across this hilarious post by <a href=”“>Accidentally on Purpose author Mary Pols about teaching her son about sex:

Tonight I hauled Dolan out of the tub and into my lap, noticing how big he’s gotten. Granted he only weighs 34 pounds, but he’s solid. I wrapped his towel around him and said, “You’re so heavy. What am I going to do without my baby?”

“Make another baby,” he suggested.

“I’m afraid I’m too old,” I said, pulling his wet self to me for a squeeze. At 44, I am, and it makes me deeply sad, although simultaneously, I’m grateful I ever had the chance to have a child.

“How do you make a baby?” he asked.

I contemplated ways to get out of this one, and then decided on the truth. A 2008 kind of truth. He’s got friends who came about through less conventional means.

“Well, there a few ways,” I said. “But the simplest way is that the Daddy put his penis inside the Mommy.”

“No,” he said, incredulously.

“It’s true,” I said. “And then some stuff comes out of the man’s penis and it meets up with the egg and then,” I pulled away to demonstrate something with my hands, some mish mashing of matter. “The baby starts to grow.”

My son put his head back and laughed so hard I started to laugh too. He kept laughing until it turned into a full fledged cackle.

“So what do you think is so funny?” I said.

“I’m laughing at the laughter,” he said.

Which is a pretty sweet summary of what a good laugh evolves into it. I had to admire his line of thinking.

Even though I haven’t met her (yet), Mary is a huge inspiration. I loved her book and we became email buddies and she inspires me both by her example (having her son at age 39) and by her kindness toward me.