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Here’s hoping my babies come out with a Scottish accent

9 May

This is a relationship blog and there is a relationship I have yet to discuss on here that I’d like to talk about. I would like to discuss my feelings about children, specifically my own. Please do not freak out, no one is pregnant. Well no one is pregnant who is writing this blog. But someone (me) is planning a wedding and starting to nest, and feeling excited about the notion of having little ones in her future. When I look lovingly into the Scottish’s eyes and tell him I want to have his babies, the fear in the room is almost palpable. He gazes back at me and in an unsteady voice, says, “Not for a long time hunny.” OH NO. IT’S LIKE THE PROPOSAL ALL OVER AGAIN. This wonderful man I’m going to marry moves slower than any human being I know. He doesn’t do anything quick or rash, all moves must be calculated and planned years and years in advance. Meanwhile my biological clock ticking and the noise is really starting to bug me. My clock sort of revved up after getting engaged and while it starts off trying to be nice, it usually ends up yelling at me. My clock: “Umm excuse me, umm, your body was made to procreate, and umm, well, all of us here in this pale vessel would like to say, GIVE US SOMETHING TO NURTURE *GOD DAMNIT!” Of course it’s fitting that my biological clock is overly dramatic like myself.

 

 

I’ve decided the best way to explain my feelings on having children would be to fill out the Who, What, Where, Why, When and How Many of it all. Sort of like an English paper outline. Enjoy!

So, WHO? Well, if possible I’d like to have a Scottish-American kid, with an ideal mix being 60% Scottish and 40% American, because those Scots just eat whatever they want and don’t worry about a thing, plus they are the most laid-back culture I’ve ever been around! As long as the kiddos get some of my passion, drive, and at least one artistic quality, we’ll be all set. If for some reason I need to adopt (ps I think adoption is awesome) then I think an African-American boy and an Asian girl would be adorable.

WHAT? Human children please.

WHERE? This is a great question. I would like to have my kids live in Chicago because it’s kind of my favorite city of all time, but I would also like to be near my family when I raise my kids. So either Chicago or Minnesota… at this point I’m not sure the Scottish could fathom moving to an even colder climate, but the lure of free babysitting has to hold some weight, right? Ultimately, I will have my kids in the Midwest. Ain’t no better place for kid-raising the way I see it.

WHY? This is an even better question. Besides just the biological clock, I most simply want a family of my very own to dream, love, and grow with. I love my family, immediate, extended, and honorary, and I want to create my own little unit with new special traditions and memories. I want to put more awesome people in the world. People who will respect the earth and their fellow human beings, people who will not discriminate based on sexuality or race or physical condition, and people who add to the quality of life for those around them. So, you know, just to have a little mini-me walking around… just kidding, I’d kill her.

WHEN? Let’s just say if I found out I was preggers by our first anniversary in March 2014, I would not be upset! Although, I have to say, it’d be nice to have more than a year to worry about Number One (me), and as a nanny I get an insight into the raising of kids and since it really is life-changing there is no need to rush. On the other hand, I’m super excited and not sure how long I’ll be able to wait! I’m hoping the Scottish isn’t having a heart attack on the train right now as he reads this on his way home. His ideal is like years from now after we have a house and enough money saved up to send them all to Harvard. AS IF!

HOW MANY? I say 2-3 and the Scottish says 1-2. But I want to have two girls (sisterly love is the best and the worst all at the same time) and I also want to have a little boy, so three kids would be nice. But a family of four sits together so well on theme park rides and airplanes, plus one more kid = one more flight to Scotland, and we know those trips are gonna add up!! But on the other hand, I come from a family of three, and so does my mom

Two things I know for sure, I don’t want to have an only child, and I don’t want to have three boys. If we have two boys and start trying for a third, I’ll probably spend our life savings flying around the globe looking for the best method to ensure our next kid is a female. Cause at that point I’ll be the desperate mother of two boys and I’ll most likely already have a reputation of being crazy.

Overall, I will consider us blessed no matter what the gender, number, or Scottish-American mix our children have, but frankly that doesn’t make for a very fun blog post.  For the ladies out there, when did your clock start ticking?!?!?!  Or maybe it hasn’t, that’s OK too!!

* I do not take the Lord’s name in vain when speaking but I take a lot of liberties when writing and it just sounded better to say GOD DAMNIT than GOSH DAMNIT. Luckily for me, God has a sense of humor.

Quote: “There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million.” Walt Streightiff

I’m a church-crier and other embarrassing confessions from this weekend

29 Apr

I took out a five-year-old. At work on Friday, I was taking little Becca to a Spanish camp placement visit in Oak Park (a suburb very close to the city). I printed out directions (despite having lived in Oak Park for a full year) and followed them, which was my first mistake, because they took me through downtown which was miserable with traffic. I should have taken the freeway, but soon it was too late to switch routes and we were running LATE. I called the place and said we’d be there soon but I really, really hate being late, so I wanted to get there as soon as possible. After we’d parked and paid the meter, Becca and I crossed the street and I suggested we run. We rarely run, because running is stupid and Becca prefers to run at recess, not when being asked. But she knew we were late so she agreed. We started running and the stupid uneven sidewalk paired with my inherent klutzy-ness caused me to trip and fall to the ground taking poor Becca down with me! We were holding hands and there was no escaping our double-fall. She started to cry, and we examined our wounds while the homeless guy down at the corner shouted to us, “Are you OK?” I replied that yes, we were fine while attempting to soothe a teary-eyed Becca, getting her laugh it off and suggested that Nini had learned her lesson, no running in Oak Park!! We brushed ourselves off and got back to it, this time, walking briskly but not running. We passed the homeless guy who started to say, “Ma’am, would you—,” I cut him off saying “Sorry, we’re in a hurry Mister.” He says, “Yea you in hurry, that’s why you tripped.” Well played homeless man, well played.

lovely (older) photo of Becca and I

I pissed off my neighbor. In my condo building lives this sweet older woman across the hall. Her name is Fran. When she first saw me moving in back in 2009 she assumed I was another renter because the condo was getting renovated at the time. Nope, that was all me! I bought it! Fran was happy to learn this because she did not like having renters moving in and out year after year (the previous owner had used my junior one bedroom as a rental property.) Over the last three years, Fran and I have exchanged Christmas cookies and causal conversation. I’m kind of an excellent tenant, if I do say so myself. My idea of hosting a party is having girls over for wine and girl talk. The last few months I’ve barely been home because I’ve been nesting with the Scottish in our apartment on the other side of the city. Well, as the Scottish and I were clearing out my place yesterday we ran into Fran, still in her dressing gown at 2 PM I might add, and we started chatting with her. She asked what we were doing and I said I’m moving in with the Scottish because we got engaged! Yay! She was excited and happy for us! Then she asks, “So are you going to sell the place?” I say, “Nope, we’re going to get a renter in here sometime in August.” Cut to the most crestfallen woman I’ve ever seen. It was like she’d be told her dog died. A RENTER!?!??! HOW AWFUL!!! She recovered with, “Well, much happiness to you both, and then promptly shut the door. Awkward city. So I’m currently seeking really nice, super quiet and perhaps even boring, squeaky clean person who is hardly ever home to rent my condo and keep elderly neighbor happy at the same time… sigh.

AFTER

I cried in church. I’m a church-crier, it’s true. I feel like I’ve shared this little nugget on “Drama Happens” once before but I’ll share it again. I realize I’m quite the obnoxious over-sharer and but this specific confession really brings everyone’s judgy-eyes out. “You cry in church? But… why?!!?!?” It is weird. I tend to cry at about 90% of the sermons I hear and I don’t even know why! I guess it’s triggered by a sweet personal story, or a quote or phrase that makes me think, or when something reminds me of one the relationships in my life. Whatever the reason, if I feel intense emotion (good or bad) my eyes start to fill up. I’ve gotten quite good at blinking the tears away or letting them pool until I can get a good swipe of my hand up to my face to wipe them away all at once. Still, it gets tricky. And it’s just a very public place in a very quiet room and suddenly I feel like all eyes are on me and public display of emotion. If anything, it gives the Scottish more comedic material. Aren’t I the nicest?

Does anyone else do something really embarrassing that is kind of odd?

Quote: “But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” Christian Bale

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