Apr
9
I’ve been taking care of my 11-month-old niece for a few days while her daddy is out of the country and her mommy is attending a conference. Over the last couple of years I had been warming up to the idea of becoming a single mom. I now know that it’s never going to happen. At this point I am even rethinking my intention to adopt a puppy.
And Morgy is a good baby! She is charming, funny, made of adorable, naps on command. Still, she took up every inch of my available brain space, squeezing out things like my tax return and bathing. She enjoyed teething all over my David Yurman bangles.
Weirdly, the part that was hardest was all the talking. I have lived alone my entire adult life. Keeping up the running monologue wore me out faster than playing peek-a-boo for four long hours. She doesn’t quite have the game down yet, keeps patting her ears. But we have high hopes.
I spent most of my life fairly ambivalent on the matter of having children. Arthur wanted them. I wasn’t dead set against it, but I needed some persuading. He said it would be fun watching them grow up. The matter was dropped when we broke up.
Since that time I’ve gone back and forth about it, but as the years passed I began to investigate single motherhood. I read articles by mothers, and by the children of sperm donors. I read list-servs started by single moms who’d shared a donor, and had children who were siblings. I liked this idea, since I knew I’d only do this once. It’s good to have siblings.
In the end, I’ve decided against going it alone. My life is settled. I have an enormous amount of freedom. It’s not a perfect tradeoff, but it’s still lovely. I like being able to randomly get in my car and drive 3200 miles. Some day, if the Bering Strait Bridge is ever built, I will drive to Russia.
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In the comments, Jeanna asked What happened to Robin?
Robin is married and has an infant daughter. I am happy for him, though I’ll admit to a pang when I read about his wedding on IMDB.com. I still think about him from time to time, but more in an affectionate sort of way rather than him blocking the sun.
Once in awhile we exchange notes to say hello, but mostly we are not in touch. He does know about the book, and is prepared, but nervous.
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Timmy (I can’t quite bring myself to call him “Tim”) and I saw Vantage Point. It was a Rashomon-esque tale of the assassination of a United States President. We were laughing so hard by the end (”RUN FORREST, RUN!”), I was worried that we’d bug the other two people in the theatre.
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5 Responses to “Baby love”
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I see an Umlaut over your shoulder!
It’s nice when you can look back on your first, best or worst love with fond memories. You know, instead of burning desire or burning hatred.
God, your hair looks awesome in those pics.
My hair LOVES Florida!
Darlin’, you look foxy on the photos. It’s good to see you back.