Yesterday, I went to my friend's house so she could cut my hair and make it look like a color that actually exists in nature (yes, they call in "Natural Instincts" but it doesn't look all that natural when you put it over pre-existing dyed blond hair, but that's probably a story for another entry). She recently had a baby boy, and this is the first time I got to see him -- other than a picture on Facebook, in which he looked oddly spray tanned. (He's not.)
During the course of the afternoon, I got to hold the boy a few times. He's quite cute and seems so tiny. I held him and walked around with him for a bit while my friend made us some lunch. During that time, he decided it would be a really good idea to pee and let some leak out the diaper -- just a couple of drops, but still it's pee. I have to wonder if I should be flattered.
It turns out that having a kid is kind of a big job. And my friend, who recently turned 40, isn't so sure she wants to try for a second one. I don't judge -- OK, yeah, I'm Judgey McJudgerson, but I don't judge my friends in regards to their parenting choices and styles -- but she did seem to be pretty darn tired and was obviously feeling like she was nothing more than a dairy for this little man.
Don't get me wrong, she's deliriously happy with this baby. She was just exhausted and realizing (as I'm sure all new parents do, no matter how prepared) that having a kid is way more work than they thought.
I have accepted the fact that the universe doesn't want me to have a baby. But there is a part of me that thinks the universe has a grand scheme to lull me into a false sense of security, then years from now, when I'm contentedly settled into my mid-40s -- BAM! -- pregnant. Is it wrong that I think the universe is trying to pull a long con on me?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment