Friday, January 19, 2007

My pedestrian life

No, I'm not talking about my walking- there is a lot of it, though. I'm talking about things that are stereotypical, run-of-the-mill, or just what everyone else does or expects. I'm talking about the fact that my husband is like my father.

For the most part, this isn't a bad thing. I love my dad; I love my husband. My dad is affectionate, hard-working, sacrificial, excellent at whatever he does, God-fearing, unconventionally smart, handsome, generally happy and easy to be around, and he will do anything for the people he loves- he'll even do quite a bit for people he only likes. My husband has all of these qualities to one degree or another. The more cloudy side? Moody, occasional lapses into irresponsibility, poor time-management, not too hot a history with finances, a bit much for people sometimes, and one thing I just realized yesterday- a joy for lecturing.

Now, believe me, if you know my dad, you know that no one has ANYTHING on his ability to lecture you on any number of topics about which he may or may not have some small amount of knowledge. You also probably know that my husband does not usually get this way, which I think is because he's not the type of guy who thinks that he knows more about something than you do, but I've noticed that once in a while, if he has more experience or knowledge about something that we are both interested in, he'll get into Teacher Mode. Yesterday it was about running and breathing, but I don't remember other specific topics.

The cool thing, though, is that I didn't mind. He rarely does it, and it wasn't condescending or anything, so I was happy to smile and listen. I actually gave him a little hug because I thought it was so cute. I didn't say anything to him, but I thought, "My daddy does that!"

Friday, January 12, 2007

"You don't know what you're missing out on!"

This is what all but 5 people on the planet have told me and my husband when they found out that we aren't going to have children. And they're right- I don't know. Because I'm not going to experience it. It's fairly cut and dried. You don't know what you're missing when you don't get your foot cut off, either.

I can make guesses or people can tell me things- I'll never look into the face of a baby that I made. I won't see what the combination of our genes would look like. Although I can snuggle with plenty of toddlers and have kids run and throw themselves into my arms when they see me, it will never be because I am the most important person in the world to them- their mom.

It is a choice that I made, and I'm fine with it. Parents crow about the meaning or purpose their life has been given, the scales that fell of their eyes, and other poetic images, but my life does have a purpose. I have meaning- kids would just give it a different meaning or add aspects to the purpose that aren't currently there. But so can other things. I'm the most important person in the world to my husband, which is pretty damn sweet.

So I'm 32. My biological clock surely runs on a different circuit than my brain and heart, and it's possible that my hormones are throwing up dreams and feelings as some last-ditch effort to preserve the species. I say to those hormones, "Calm down, dearies. There are 9 kids out their already with parts of your code in them (children of cousins and nephews). The line isn't dying out." Will I admit that pregnant dreams make me think and that, maybe, there is a hint of wistfulness in them? Yes, I will. There is a hint of wistfulness, but mostly there is a moment of confusion, followed by the firm thought of, "Nope. Still don't want kids." The only thing on earth that I'm more sure of than not wanting kids is my joy that I no longer watch ER.

The other likely possibility, one that I can't believe I didn't think of until a minute ago (so dense sometimes!), is that my pregnant dreams have to do with my life, my purpose, my dreams- I'm getting ready to give birth to something new. Now that is exciting!