The Husband and I are often plagued with the question, “So… when are you guys going to have kids?” The question used to really bother me because I felt as if we were too young… and really, it is not anyone else’s business. When The Husband and I married, we agreed that we didn’t necessarily feel the urge to parent anyone. Ever.
In an effort to defend The Husband’s and my decision and add a little humor to an uncomfortable conversation, my response was always something along the lines of, “Oh, we’ve decided to pass on the kiddo thing… it’s not for us. Dirty diapers and me? Ha! I toilet trained my cats because I can’t even change the litter!” My own mother claims to understand. She cried for 9 months when she found out she was preggers with my brother. Of course, she says as soon as they laid my angry beautiful brother in her arms, she melted and found a new meaning of the word love.
I don’t mind kids, I actually think they’re quite cute. I just don’t know if I’m ready to shoulder the responsibility of having one of my own. I often tell my four year old nephew, Taderman, that in his prayers he needs to remind God that Uncle and Auntie want to place a baby order for one just like him. He looks at me as if I’m crazy. Of course, Taderman is a thirty year old trapped in the body of a four year old. I can have an intelligent conversation with him. He’s logical, thoughtful and sweet. Tantrums are kept at a level that I can tolerate. He’s going to be a heart-breaker.
My mom says that my problem with kids is that I want them to be rational. Logical. I guess she’s right, in her own way. Completely separate from wanting children to be logical, I feel like I’m going to fail somehow. Nothing makes my palms sweat faster than a baby crying and not knowing what the heck it is (s)he wants. I freak out, especially around newborns, I’m afraid I’m going to break them. I must have had to watch the video in Elementary school too many times detailing just how careful you have to be to not snap baby’s neck. It.will.die. So I’m petrified.
Two years after The Husband and I said “I do” we revisited the whole kiddo situation. The conversation sparked anxiety attacks for me, so we decided to table the discussion for two more years. Those two more years were up… almost two years ago. So nearly six years into our marriage, we’ve decided to venture into the land of parenthood. Just not yet. In a couple years. Or three. Or four. Maybe.
Being childless at 27 years old is a lot harder than I thought. Our friends that are married have decided to go ahead and have children. They are pregnant, have children… are trying. Our single friends are looking for love so they can start a family of their own. We often get invitations to birthday parties, baby showers… it’s uncomfortable. We show up to the party and everyone else in the room is the grandparent/great-grandparent/brother/sister or a parent themselves, making The Husband and I to stand there looking like a couple loonies.
The Husband and I went to our friend’s daughter’s Second Birthday Party on Saturday. As soon as the cake was cut this past weekend, we were out the door. The mom screaming, “Don’t you want to hold the baby before you go?!!?” Turning and rushing down the front stairs I holler, “Oh, nope. I’ll live. Promise I’ll hold her next time! See ya soon! Love you!” So now I’ve offended my friend because I didn’t hold the nine-month old before bolting out the door. I can guarantee, her offense is nothing compared to the offense I would have taken had the girl spit up on me.
Speaking of offenses… I check another recipe off my To-Do list the other day. We tried Rachael Ray’s Green Olive Chicken and Couscous. On a scale of one to ten, it was probably a five. It wasn’t something that knocked my socks off, as I was expecting. Olives? Chicken? Couscous? ONE POT! Should have known better. Rachael Ray likes to use every dish available to her… and this was basically a one potter. I actually followed the recipe… so if you’re interested in it… click the link above for the recipe.
Here’s what I think went wrong…. I like my vegetables crisp. Making the couscous in the same pot as the chicken and vegetables, I think overcooked things for me a bit. I wanted bite when I saw zucchini on my fork. I think the dish needed the juice of two lemons to brighten the flavors, but I only had one. The second lemon and making the couscous in a separate pot probably would have made this an eight or nine.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you all about the hot chocolate and popcorn The Husband and I made over the weekend. Date night… ah. So badly overdue.