One of my gfriends in LA facebooked me an adorable pic of a cherubic 5 year old girl saying she looked like me.
She's really freaking cute.
This gfriend of mine is single, so she just meant it as a cute hey. But I still had a momentary tiny flutter of one ovary. I think the left one.
And a memory of how close my mom and I were, and what it was like to hug her. Who wouldn't want that closeness to another being again? Especially when it's been three years, and no one has come close to filling that void.
Okay, look. You other guys out there with the "But you'd be a great mom!" mantra. (Ahem: Charlie/Mark/Raquel/Valencia/Todd/Charles. The SuperParents who rock the world doing it ALL, and doing it awesome.)
Lay off. I'm like a fly with half a wing. Or a mad scientist. Pick your metaphor:
You know I can barely tie my own shoes.
I can't be responsible for a PET's life.
Mmmm...here's the deal. You guys GUARANTEE me I get two years of uninterrupted awesome partnership and sex with a great guy to make up for the decade I just spent celibate...and find me a guy who has enough money to buy a wife/nanny/maid for us, 'cuz I can't do that either and stay sane...oh AND guarantee me four hours or less of labor like Meg just had...and we don't even CONSIDER the subject until I'm 38and have had some damn fun...
I might be able to be talked into it. MIGHT.
Smidgen of a...
Nope. Just can't. Nevermind, it's not for me. If the universe wanted me to be a mom, my life wouldn't have gone this way. As is, I just have to choose between being a wife and artist OR a mom.
I choose the two things I know I love and want and can't live happily without... expressing myself artistically and having a partnership with someone I've hand-picked.
Some women can have it all. Some women can buy it all. Some women can do it all.
I am not one of those women.
To think I could add a third impossibly hard task onto my life plan with the current resources at my disposal...would be unthinkable, disastrous hubris on my part.
Plus...my baby voice is BEYOND INSUFFERABLE:
PLEASE don't tell me I sound like that in bed with my lovahs when I'm giving my patented record-breaking back massage or one hour bj. Oh the horror! Take me now, Jeebus!