|Megan Mooney - Irish = Mexican|
First of all, if Megan Mooney were to ask me to marry her I just might say yes, because she’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a comedienne and more. Too bad she's married (with children now, as a matter of fact). (Shout out to Ang for introducing us.)
This particular bit really spoke to me though – on a very deep level. I remember having these very same feelings the first time a friend of mine told me she was pregnant. She was a college friend and needless to say, we’d had some seriously good times - times we'd never be able to continue with a baby on board. After she broke the happy news I remember thinking “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!”
It felt like she was breaking up with me for her reproductive rights. The NERVE.
As I’ve matured (i.e. ever since I've had to deliver the same personal development to my friends), I'm happy to report that I've embraced this news from others with a tad more class...even genuine happiness. However, as of late, I’ve begun to think long and hard about how I’ll continue to navigate my friendships, my marriage, and my work, and my drinking habits with a kid. There are definitely friends who have, in my opinion, been more successful in this endeavor than others, but I’m still unsure about what’s made them so successful. Timing? Good babysitters? A complete disregard for child protective services?
I don’t want to be the type of parent who makes everyone else have kids right along with me. Having a child is a decision Paul and I made on our own…we didn’t consult with our friends and ask them for permission to bring a third wheel into our group. And though I’m confident my friends will not only make accommodations to our new family circle AND go home and talk to one another about how amazing our mad parenting skills are and how they just can’t get enough of our incredibly smart, talented, athletic, and well mannered child, I think it’s equally important that Paul and I demonstrate that we’re willing to make accommodations to maintain our friendships on a kid-free level, too.
I don’t have kids yet, so I’m not sure what that looks like exactly, but I do know that for starters it means getting babysitters (or a small cage with some food) and dedicating childless conversations to each other and to our friends…even with our friends who already have kids (that is, if we can get them to simultaneously cage their kids, too). Because, well, sometimes I think I’m going to need conversation that doesn’t involve lactation and poop. I think they’ll need this too. Especially my friends who don’t have kids.
And when I do need to talk about that? Well, that’s what this blog is for! (Get ready to live, readers!)
Perhaps this is a naïve position to take. Perhaps all of you who currently have children are reading this while making all sorts of guttural noises and saying, with bated breath, “She has NO idea what she’s asking of herself!” Maybe you’d be right. But at the end of the day, when the smiles and sunshine and unicorn fantasy of children begins to dissipate and it starts raining poop and puke, I want to know that I can get by with a little help from my friends. And Jose Cuervo.
And I think in order to make that phone call with dignity, they need to know long before that day comes that I have not abandoned them. Or Jose.