Thursday, March 27, 2008

Flash Forward

*Disclaimer- I cannot be held responsible for the amount of times I say "fuck" in the following entry. *
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My sister Susan called me this morning because she was delirious with a high fever and had no one to pick Kira up from school. Vernon was working late. So Aunt Lorraine canceled her afternoon (the parents nearly killed me so I scheduled them all for tomorrow and shall work for 9 hours with no break...awesome) to go get Kira from school. Her school is about 5 minutes from where I work, so while it wouldn't take me long to get there, my sister was totally out of it and I wanted to stay with her until Vernon got home from work.

Well, let me tell you something. I was not prepared for the psychological impact something as simple as picking a 4 year old up from preschool would have. I mean I love kids. I adore them. I have a knack for getting on their level and have no problem being completely ridiculous to entertain them. If you saw me at work you would probably think I had completely lost my mind. The amount of singing, dancing, jumping around, and squealing "good job" that I do ...it all borders on insanity. But for the most part the kids love it. And so do I. Hence the problem isn't that I'm not used to kids or that I don't like kids. I love em. It's just...sometimes I don't know how ready I am for them at this time.

Well.. let me tell you...climbing into the driver's seat of my sister's Volvo station wagon with the car seat in the back? A little bit I broke out in hives. Suddenly I found myself driving cautiously and taking extra time to make left hand turns. I pulled into Kira's preschool and felt my chest tighten just a bit. "It's your niece, she needs you, just go in and get her."
I walked up to the door and felt my heart pounding. I checked in (so they knew I was Aunt Lorraine and not some crazy psycho killer) and turned the corner to Kira's classroom. I can't be completely sure, but I may have heard the jaws theme playing somewhere in the background. Holy shit. This was the kind of thing MOMS do! I am not a mom! WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE!!
No, there was no turning back now. I walk into the classroom and immediately see Kira. Her face lights up and she runs to give me a big hug. Ok, I have my smooshy niece giving me hugs. I'm in a good place. "Oh, you must be Susan's sister!" I look up and see three women standing there. The teachers. I'm meeting her teachers. "Yea, yea I am." Some awkward exchange takes place about someone the teacher knows that also knows my sister who I may know too. I have no fucking clue who this woman is talking about but I act like I know EXACTLY who she is talking about. "OOHH!! Pete's wife!! Nice to MEET you!!"
I'm sure I look normal enough but everything in my brain is saying "CODE RED! CODE RED! ABORT MISSION! GET OUT!!"
Kira shoves a handful of papers into my arms. What the hell is this stuff? Some work sheets, a snack menu, some notices. I know the teacher is trying to talk to me again. Something about one of the notices and something I have to tell my sister. Oh christ. Parent stuff. I zone out and have no clue what it was she told me.
I take Kira to her locker and try to sort out what I need to get together. Coat, hat, mittens, the papers, her special toy, a special treat, some other special fucking this or that. Jesus christ, this kid has more in her locker at age four than I did in high school. But no big deal. I dress kids every day at work. Sweater, coat, hat, blah blah blah. But wait, I'm not just sending this one off to mom. I have to make sure this one gets home. Warmly. Ok crap. Let me unzip her coat and make sure I buttoned her sweater. Ok, yea, I did. Zip, snap, off we go. I take her hand.

Oh my god. I'm walking through a preschool with a kid in my hand. A kid I'm taking home. I mean not MY home but still. My heart beats a little faster as I discuss her day with her on the way to the car. "Ok Kira, sweetness, please get in your carseat." I'm buckling her in and my sister isn't here. This is mom stuff....and I have to drive her home now!!!!!!!! I have to drive a four year old home in a Volvo fucking station wagon while the Wiggles play on the radio and she talks about circle time and HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!

I start to panic. I flash forward and flip out. In my mind I have aged 10 years, I'm 20 pounds heavier, I haven't had sex in three weeks, my house is a mess, children are screaming, I'm complaining about my stretch marks, I don't know what's for dinner, OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

I pull into Susan's driveway. Get the FUCK out of the car!!! We go inside. I see my sister and of course act like this was no big deal. Sure, whatever, she had a fun day. Yippee. Let's have a snack and play pretty pretty princess. Which is exactly what we did.

So listen. The next time someone asks me whether or not I'm having kids yet, whether or not I'm pregnant yet, how many times I've had sex this week, and whether or not I "went for it" when I did...don't take it personally when I shoot you the look of fucking death. (Do people have no boundaries anymore or is it just me??) I don't currently want to hear about it. Some day I may desperately want kids. From time to time I do. My hormones rage and I get baby fever. And then I remember that I can't give them back when they're mine. And then I ALSO remember that I am just STARTING to feel better and saner, and that maybe sending my body into an extremely stressful state with my hormones raging to all crazy hell may not be the best option for someone who is JUST starting to feel normal. Am I nuts here? Or is it everyone else...
Everyone tells me I'll be a great mom. I can't decide if they mean it or if that's just what you say. And maybe the fact that my own mother wasn't quite cut out for the job has a lot to do with it (ok, I know it does...it's just that having a uterus does not necessarily mean you are cut out for motherhood and I think people forget that sometimes...). But let me be. I'll come to that decision when the time is right. If the time is tomorrow, then it's tomorrow. If it's in 10 years, then it's in 10 years. If it's never, it's never. But it's our decision to make, thank you very much.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dare I say, woah!