All of my friends are having babies. I, on the other hand, am still single without any children of my own. I have no prospects of having any children in the near future. Quite honestly, I don’t know if kids are even in the cards for me. I had piss poor examples for parents and I’m terrified of repeating their mistakes. I’ve devoted my life to my career and am continuing to do so. When would I have the time or energy to devote to children like I would want to? With all that I have been through and all of the terrible things that happen in our world these days, if I end up not having any children of my own, I won’t be as disappointed as you might think.
Okay, I’d be a little disappointed; but if it doesn’t happen, I will still live a full and happy life, this I’m sure of.
It’s hard being the odd one out, though. As my friends get married off and have babies, our friendships are changing. It’s not unexpected, but it’s not easy. The conversations are certainly a whole lot different these days. We used to talk about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our careers. Now, I have to hear about your kid’s diarrhea for a week? Please keep that shit to yourself. Literally.
Despite the fact that I don’t want to know every detail of your child’s bowel movements, we can still be amazing friends. I get that motherhood changes women in so many ways. I knew that it would change you. But unless you’ve suddenly decided to be one of those dysfunctionally obsessed with your children mothers (which you said you’d never do, by the way), you’re still you. You still have the wicked sense of humor we share, you’re still a strong, fierce, independent woman, you’re still filled with all those hopes and dreams and fears we used to talk about (and many more with kids in the picture). And, as soon as this new kid phase is over, you’re going to want to join me for a glass of wine or three now and again (trust me, it’s gonna happen).
In the meantime, you still deserve to have friends you can just shoot the shit with, about kids, about husbands, about whatever. I can (and have and will) adjust to the fact that sometimes we won’t get to hang out or that the primary focus of our conversations will be about the kids. So, while you think I’m not going to be able to understand or relate to you now that you’re a mom, nothing could be farther from the truth.
I do have to ask for one favor, though.
Please don’t act like I have no clue when it comes to children. Although I don’t have any of my own, I had a jacked up childhood and learned all about what not to do with kids. I have nephews and a niece who I babysat. I used to babysit the neighbor kids. As it turns out, that’s more interaction with children than you’ve had up to this point. Does it mean I know everything? No. But neither do you.
I want to learn with you. I want to know what it’s like. I want to know what kinds of things to expect. I want to see your kids grow up I want to see what kind of parent you’ll become. Even if I don’t have any kids of my own, I can be the coolest aunt out there. Why risk ruining our perfectly good friendship acting as though you’ve moved up into the upper echelon of life for the mere fact that you popped out a kid?
Rant over.
I still love you, even though you’ve got this new puking, pooping, time and thought consuming, adorable little baby. I just hope you’ll still love me back, even though I don’t.
The Redheaded Wonderblog 