Life has a peculiar way of lining your road of whatever it is, with signs of where you have have been and signals to where you might go. Most of the journey we have our heads down counting each step, measuring it against the next guy. There are little forks in the road we take alone, so we keep our heads up with blind belief in ourselves or risk-seeking destructive behavior. No matter which path we choose,there are little blinking lights, arrows and perhaps even huge detour signs reflecting at us: "Wrong way" or "Bucks Crossing" or "No passing". Usually I ignore them. Lately, I am highly attentive.
I have a feeling my road signs are saying all sorts of proclamations of caution or fear-based warning, but I moving slowly in order to react. I am really just enjoying where I am. Parenthood, for example is hard. Really hard, but it has a cyclical flow to it. There are points where you truly believe if you have to unhook your nursing bra one more time, your entire soul will be sucked out of you and you will roam the earth with those dark-tortured apparitions from Ghost. But then there are times like now, when my two-year old says incredibly funny things. Like: "Mommy, you look like a monkey. I love monkeys. They swing." She has thoughts of her own, and she puts her hands on her hips (mirroring me).
Don't get me wrong. I love children. I really think I greatly dislike babies. Even my own. They are merely little sacks of need. I saw a best friend leaving the hospital last night and I think: "Jesus, she wont sleep for more than three-consecutive hours for the next four or five months" and I shiver.
I get to hand mine a sippy-cup instead of my boob.
I can say: "What is your problem? I think you need to get a grip or no cookie." to mine. She will spend weeks trying to learn which cry means what. No negotiation.
Mine says: "Tickle the bottom of my back, NOT the top, mama." I giggle at her lack of need to read: "Miss Bossy".
My friend will break her own back trying to figure out how best to bounce the crying infant while saying "sh.sh.sh." and running tap water and simulating a swing movement standing up while trying to sleep. Eek.
I know somewhere along my road, I want to bring another mini-me into the world. There is something beautiful in growing a family, watching those little wrinkly whimpering time-suckers turn into enchanting better versions of ourselves, but man is it hard. That is a road you can't run through, it runs you through, and it is long and up hill.
For now, I will stand on her sidelines and throw Gatorade, cheers, and maybe give her a piggy-back for a few miles here and there.
As for me...I will adopt a one-year old, or wait until I forget some more. We can't all be brave.
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