While my “physical therapist” “helped” me by doing what I can only imagine she took straight from some medieval torture manual (jk jk jk, I love my physical therapst), we started talking about moving. She used to live in my neighborhood but moved about a year ago.
Why? Because…kids. There are more parks. More kid friendly restaurants. More schools.
“I mean if you’re thinking about having kids, you really need to move North.”
Last night, Best Friend: Accomplice and I were in our usual long, rambling texting conversation. I asked her – where do you see yourself in five years? At the end of the list? Kids.
Last week I finished reading Love Warrior (strong feelings on this book, for another time). Spoiler alert: the author is an alcoholic bulimic who gets accidentally pregnant and uses that to sober up from food and alcohol. Like with all addictions, you can get rid of it but until you get to the root of the issue you will continue to suffer in new and exciting ways. Which she does. I thought, surely, if she’s so miserable, she will stick with the one kid. Because why when her own life is so lost and unhappy, would she think that it would be a good idea to create more life that could suffer as much as she has. But then, like a full on Seinfeld-esque “yada yada” she pops out two more.
So kids, huh?
The Huz and I have talked about kids. In fact, I distinctly remember very early on, lying in my bed on Saturday morning, having that discussion. We both took the Cool Joe approach and shrugged nonchalantly. Kids, like that restaurant we went to the night before, was something we could take or leave. That was the truth. I had never wanted to be a Mom but never not wanted to be a Mom. I wasn’t baby crazy. I wasn’t anti-baby.
Only now. Here are are. Married. Newly married. But mid-thirties. And babies are everywhere. At the physical therapists offices. In my phone. In my self help, spiritual, new agey books. In my brain. Not because I NEED to have a baby. But because…I’m starting to just get a glimpse of the fork in the road. At some point, not now, but sooner than when we were taking or leaving kids three years ago, it won’t be an option anymore. At least not an option to try the old fashioned way.
So it’s got me asking that question again. DO I want kids? Why does ANYONE want kids? Does everyone feel the way I do? Obviously not. Best Friend: Childhood wanted kids since she was little. She also knew she wanted to be a nurse and did it. But the rest of us, those that changed our major six times and our career just as many – how do we know? How did Love Warrior know?
Is it “ahh, what the hell? Let’s give it a try.” Is it cultural messaging? Parental pushing? Is it absolute mindless “this is just what we do so here we go.” Is it literally “if I don’t do this now I won’t get to later”?
I wish we talked about these things. Well, at least the debabybate will continue to rage on here.