Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Parenting through the eyes of a clueless single girl

This may sound strange (and foreign to my southern readers) but for a few years now, I’ve been pondering whether or not I really want kids. I’ve never been the type of girl who oohs and goos over a stranger’s baby. I didn’t grow up babysitting and I’ve never been one to get all giddy at the thought of changing a diaper.

But over the past 8 months - WHAM - everybody and their freaking brother (or sister, if you will) has a bun in the oven. Two of my best friends, one (MillValleyMama) is due on (drum roll please) my birthday (24 shopping days left) , and yet another good friend due in January. Another friend with QUADS…good LORD. Not to mention the almost full-term pregnancy I spent locked in an office with the lovely and wonderful Better Lighter Half (yet another advertising partner, she’s the light, optimistic side to my dark, twisted one. She brought The Nugget into the world a mere 3 weeks ago.) I learned a lot. And I was mistaken for her lesbian partner more than once.

It seems every day I find out that somebody else is pregnant or dropped a baby while I was away, living the life of single, irresponsible debauchery. Today it was Halle Berry. Tomorrow, who knows? And to top it all off, in between freelancing, I’m working at this uber-hip baby-clothing store owned by a (non-pregnant) friend of mine. And it’s actually really fun. Duly noted, universe. I’ll give kids some more thought.

Maybe the Gods are conspiring to give me the opportunity to make a better, more informed decision once I actually find my baby daddy? I don’t have the answers, my friends. I do know that I L-O-V-E The Nugget like she’s my own, and this gives me hope for my maternal future. Today I drove she and BLH to Target and I was a nervous wreck, hands at 10:00 and 2:00 on the steering wheel, knuckles white, cars whizzing past me at a reckless 55 while I crept along at a safe 46 in the right lane of drizzling rain on 280 (precious cargo, I can’t be hydroplaning and shit).

I think I’ll know for sure how I feel once I finally meet my very own West Coast Metrodad. Until then, I’m more than happy to live vicariously through my friends who’ve been thrown in the deep end and their shit load of weird, funny, foreign stuff they share with me. How do you parents do it? So much to learn, so much to remember….very confusing. Must have vodka tonic. Anyway, here are a few of my favorites. Please, give me more.

Lactation consultant – BLH informed me this is a real job title assigned to an actual person. No shit. This sounds like something from a shitcanned Bud Light commercial. Who knew?

Roughing up the nipples – Apparently, it’s an old wives tale that women are supposed to “prepare their nipples” for nursing by giving them a good roughin’ up. Grab the nipple! Chap it! Show that teet who’s boss! Um, OUCH. If I’m ever in the family way, I’m leaving my girls alone, thank you very much. Luckily, MillVallyMama and BLH tell me this isn’t true. But they tell me when you switch from breast-feeding to bottle, the little one CAN get a bad case of….

Nipple confusion – Too…many…jokes….

Perennial massage – Oh. Holy. Jesus. BLH read me this (with a very shocked and white face, might I add) one day upon receiving her weekly Babycenter.com update (34th week I believe it was). I tried to find it just so you could read it in all its glory. But you have to subscribe and frankly, I think word of mouth learning is much more fun. So here it is, to the best of my recollection: “To prevent tearing (more vodka please), it’s a good idea to get in the habit of giving yourself a perennial massage.” They then proceed to tell you precisely how to hook your fingers and um, you know, put them in the general area and hold it there until a slight burning, stretching sensation occurs. Even better, they suggest having your partner do it for you. Maybe use a little vegetable oil. I’m not making this shit up, I swear.

Um, pretty sure that if my partner ever administers a perennial massage we would both be irreversibly damaged and thus never do anything that would cause pregnancy again. Yikes.

15 Comments:

Blogger sissy said...

I am a "southern reader" but grew up in Napa Valley! (This makes me at least formerly cool in some people's eyes!) Have kids, don't have kids, it would just be a shame to see this grand and immense (my son's spelling word this morning) sense of humor die with you! Blog on BG!

7:10 AM  
Blogger gina said...

This is utterly selfish - I know, but it would be HUGE, no GIGANTIC entertainment for me to read about your mothering adventures! That's a piss poor reason to have a kid. A good reason is that someday they grow up and you can guilt the living bejesus out of them and make them support you. I am already planting those seeds into mine.

10:19 AM  
Blogger Single, Party of One said...

mabel - another southern girl - i love it! I only admonish my southern readers because I'm southern. And as you know, people pretty much start asking you about kids when you're old enough to speak. ("do you want a boy or a girl when you're a mommy?") you're like a 5-headed 4-legged freak if you really aren't sure, God love their hearts.

10:49 AM  
Blogger gina said...

Hey Ms. Brown - email me! I will send you mucho hearts!

6:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

A friend of mine tried to convince me to do that massage thing. Every single fucking time I saw her when I was pregnant she would mention it. I started thinking she wanted to give me one. But she wasn't my type. So we're no longer friends.

(Great blog, BTW! I'll be back . . . okay, that saying is now waaaaay too Arnold.)

7:12 PM  
Blogger concha said...

kids. agh! never. besides who's got time for kids when you can go to client meetings? i'll take my kids in the awards book form any day. (and plus, if i happened to mate with my current lover, i think my parents would disown me for bringing a half puerto rican baby into our family...although maybe i should do it, just to piss them off.)

7:23 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ya' know, I said I didn't want kids once. Then my wife had quads. Better watch yourself, Rbrown -- you'll be gushing a litter in no time.

And, despite my wife's difficult pregnancy, at no point did the subject of PM come up. If she knew about it, she was gracious enough to keep it to herself. God bless her.

1:15 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I can't believe you. You are the sweetest to right about the little nugget and me (BLH), although I laugh at the thought of my being the Better Lighter Half. You know as well as I do, that I've been referred to by some Advertising CD's as "Crazy Eyes". ;-) Love ya R Brown. Keep the stories a-comin.

ox
BLH or OLH (Other Laughable Half)

1:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Jeez-a-louise. Wouldn't you know, me the BLH, an Art Director who desperately needs her writer to teach me how to spell (above).

Embarrasing! Did I spell that right, dammit? ;-)

1:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Welcome to my world RBrown. Although I definitely know I want babies...which means you'll definitely have them before me.

8:03 AM  
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