Blogging Guilt and Babies

I should not be blogging.

I only have an hour between classes, and a to-do list that’s half a mile long. I need to eat, else I might not get a chance again until after group tonight. I need to send out about four hundred e-mails. I could be doing Russian. I should not be spending this time blogging.

But I am, because if I don’t, I lose a little bit of my sanity.

And we all know I don’t have very much of that to start with.

This will have to be quick – written over a pile of chicken nuggets and fries. Frasier always comes to mind when I talk about “piles” of food. Part of if offends my snobby sensibilities, but well… they’re fast. And they’re good.

I like chicken nuggets. Sue me.

So anyway, yesterday I saw a wedding announcement. It wasn’t the first I’ve seen this year… probably closer to the fifth or sixth… but this one was special.

When I was eleven, I was completely and totally in love with the guy. He had the most adorable smile and two-toned blond hair. He played Romeo to my Juliet in the 6th grade Shakespeare performance, and it made my world when he kissed my hand in the show.

I’ve never quite forgiven him for not liking me back.

So my Romeo is now married. And as I said, he’s just the latest in a string of people from my elementary school who are now married or engaged. The head cheerleader. Two people from my “gang.” At least three more are in serious relationships.

And it kind of sucks.

Not for them, of course.

But when I look at the fact that the closest thing I’ve had to a serious relationship is an on-again, off-again internet relationship with a guy who doesn’t have any inclination to move to Texas – EVER? It’s kind of depressing.

And then, to top it off, last night, Kelly took me to the Babies R Us.

Now, I love babies. You know this. You’ve heard me talk about Kelly’s kids like they were my own. And really, that’s how I feel about them. I couldn’t possibly love them any more than I do. 

Me and Monkey Boy – 1 Month Old


I like Babies R Us too. The clothes are adorable. The toys. The possibilities! All the things I could buy for the kids. All the cute outfits I could put them in. All the cribs and rocking chairs and blankets and pastel pinks and blues.

I love it. But the combination of all those tiny shoes and hats, with the knowledge that everyone else is getting married and making a family while I’m… well… learning Russian and facilitating support groups? It wasn’t good.

Maybe I’m hormonal, but the sight of a little blue sweater set turned me into a bawling, blubbering, biological-clock watching freak. And what’s worse, I couldn’t even manage to articulate it. Kelly kept asking me what was wrong and all I could get out was that her babies weren’t my babies.

Which is ridiculous. Cause lord knows I’ve been around enough to have part ownership. And also because I’m too busy to take the Super Duper Cooper Pooper Puppy out to pee most days.


No, don’t call the ASPCA. He does go out. You’ve seen the pictures.


My point is that I know I’m not ready for babies. I’m not looking for them. I’m barely even actively seeking a relationship out of which I might some day get them.


But still…


Someday…


I will buy little blue sweater sets, and cribs, and dolls, and bottles, and diapers. And I’ll get to snuggle with my own babies.


For now, I’m just going to have to get used to the idea that everyone else I know is getting married. And maybe send a wedding gift to my Romeo.


A framed picture of me, perhaps?


With a note, “Look at what you missed out on, buddy! Have a nice life.”


Somehow, judging from his own wedding pictures, I don’t think he’ll be too disappointed.


*Bobs


*Edited to add that I did not, in fact, finish this post yesterday when I started it. Darn chicken nugget grease makes for a less than friendly typing environment.
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