Apparently the vegetarian/quadruple bypass/kid eats only carbs dinner is back on.
It's scheduled for this Saturday.
I'm not fretting over it. Very unlike me. I've decided it will be fish or meat. The vegetarian and carb eater can munch on the pasta with broccollini.
I'm probably going to make a cake just for simplicity sake.
This past weekend my mother came over for Mother's Day dinner.
My brother and I couldn't agree on a steakhouse (mom loves steak) and decided that meeting up at my place was the best solution.
I made beef tenderloin which was surprisingly easy. Ok. I have to admit. I didn't cook tenderloin. I cooked a round roast. See, I went to my butcher and the cost of 6 lb tenderloin was $135.00. I spit out my salami sample and quickly asked for a round roast instead. It was still tender and still moist and delicious. Our secret, ok? It was so easy; I may decide to cook this thing for this weekend's dinner.
We sent. Ok, I sent pink and white roses to my mother in law for Mother's day. She called and said that she's sending us over a $1000 because we shouldn't have. Hubby immediately went into a rant with his mom on a) why can't she call and say thank you, like a normal person and b) why is she sending us $1000 for flowers? She then went on about how she plans to come down on Memorial Day weekend to make sure we are living in a safe neighborhood. My MIL is a social worker for a correctional facility upstate. Think Rita Moreno from Oz but without the habit and the marriage to God. Because of such, she thinks 3:4 people on the street are murderers and/or rapists. She heard we live by a park and she immediately went on tirade about how they wait in the bushes in parks.
Anyway, I've been giving alot of thought about 'nesting'. Am I nesting? I guess I am. It's funny but I'm a city girl who always thought she would be better being a suburban wifey. Two years in a row I dress like a Stepford wife for Halloween. Maybe that's telling me something. But I find myself cooking and spending more time at home lately.
At church Sunday, the priest asked all the mother's to come to the altar for a special blessing. As I watched all these women go up to the altar (some carrying children, some dragging children), I started glancing around at the women who didn't go to the front. Most were older women. My first thought was, "way to go there father, singling out the old maids or the childless". Then I realized I'm in that lot and I felt odd that I was the only woman who wasn't over 55 or under 17 that wasn't at the altar.
"Look at the haggard look on these women. They all looked tired. Their bodies even look tired." said Hubby. As I looked at the altar, every woman there looked disheveled. One woman had a kid wrapped around her leg while holding a toddler in her arms. I had to take a double take because it really looked like she had a ball and chain on her leg before I realized it was a kid.
"If we have kids, am I going to look like that?" I asked.
"Of course not." replied Hubby. Although the answer seemed half-hearted and muffled as if lying in Church could somehow be a lessened sin if vaguely
audible.
I've spent my entire life thinking I'd be married, have children and a successful career. Now I find myself being selfish. I want children but don't want to give up my quiet lazy Sunday mornings. I want to hold a baby in my arms and show him off at the park. I don't want to hold a baby at 4am while it screams in terror as daddy is trying to put drops in his ears. And now, after Sunday, I don't want to even think about the toll motherhood does on my body. If I'm going to have dark circles under my eyes, it's not going to be because of a kid unless he's dj-ing at the club I was at. And I'm sorry; I cannot have my mother's hip expansion. It's like her hips exploded sideways and never went back to the original shape.
I never thought I'd be like this. I love kids. Always thought about them. Always wanted one. But now I've become one of those women I hate, a 'me' girl. As my good friend used to say, "Remember, It’s all about me." 7 years later, this girlfriend can alone speak to me about Barneys, The Wiggles and how she can't believe she wasted all those years before having a kid. Am I going to feel the same way? And why the hell am I thinking about this now? I've plenty of years to think about children.
I'll tell you why. We moved into a neighborhood surrounded by schools and parks. The women in our area are all toting Maclaren's. I'm toting a Coach bag. I feel like I'm the odd ball out. Eyes stare me down as I walk to the bus in my new spring dress with my favorite chocolate strappy heels. It's worse at the bus stop. It's directly in front of a children's park. All the mother's are sitting there and I can feel their eyes burning my skull as I sit there pretending to flip through my Marie Claire.
This leads me back to church. As I realize I'm with the childless crew, I search hopeful to find a few women my age. I was beginning to feel a bit like I was at the bus stop again. I finally found one woman with mousy brown hair and a very cute shift dress sitting next to a man who was the epitome of a Lacoste ad. Our eyes meet. She smiles at me and I smile back. Thank goodness! I'm not the only one. I wonder if she takes the bus.
