Seems like there’s an epidemic of pregnancies lately. Look at all the celebrities having kids. Two women I know at work recently gave birth and there are four more who have recently announced their pregnancies. I have two friends outside of work who are expected and one friend who will be a grandmother soon. I’m not sure if the influx of buns in the oven makes me want to have a baby more or less. I’d hate for it to look like I was just hopping on the bandwagon. And what name could I give my little bundle of joy that isn’t wildly popular or just plain crazy?
Sometimes I can see myself doing the mom thing – taking Jr. to school, soccer practice, piano lessons; attending PTA meetings; baking birthday cakes. Other times I see myself as the mom that drinks too much and causes her kid to need years of therapy. I don’t think anyone has all the answers to raising kids. It’s hit or miss. And no matter how great a job you do, your kid can still end up a drug addict or serial killer.
I just know I’d end up with a girly girl – me, the lifelong tomboy – and not know how to shop for her or even act around her. I can handle a tomboy – or a boy – or a super smart (not smart ass) kid. But what would I do with a little glamour girl who wants to wear dresses all the time and is into makeup and fashion?
It’s scary thinking whether or not I should be a mom. With all the pregnant ladies around, until I make up my mind, I’m sticking with bottled water.