Sweet Home Trainwreck


February 28, 2011 :: 10:19 PM

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You can’t ride two horses with one ass, sugarbean.

My guiltiest of guilty pleasures has to be the movie “Sweet Home Alabama”. I don’t know why, but I can’t walk away from it when it’s on TV. I will drop EVERYTHING to watch it - even several times in one day.

You can stop laughing now.

So anyhoo, I had had this whole entry written a few days ago about all my friends who are getting married, having kids, and how I keep discovering that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I deleted it.

The part I regret deleting is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever written… Seriously. Writing about my parents? Walk in the park. Writing about the bipolar? Taking candy from a… oh, wait. That’s actually quite a nice intro.

A few weeks ago, I journeyed to CT to meet my little brother’s baby, Bean.

It’s no secret that I’m not a huge fan of kids.

Actually, just the idea of them makes my skin crawl.

When Jeff shoved Bean into my arms and made a big deal out of me holding the baby, something in me melted. 

Not a whole lot, but just enough to bug the shit out of me.

See, I’ve known for my whole entire life that I don’t have IT. Whatever that magical thing is that drives women to have children, I just don’t have it. I’ve never been interested in kids. No babysitting. No dolls. Nothing. My shrink once blamed it on the fact that I lost my cousin to cancer before his third birthday, but that’s bullshit. I know what I know… some shrink who only gets an hour in my head, and only gets to access what I say they get to access? They are not allowed to blame my dislike of kids on Inky. Grrrr.

It didn’t help when I found out that I was bipolar and that it is genetic. If for some unknown reason, I changed my mind, I would run the risk of having a bipolar kid. Not. Even. Worth. It.

I knew at 22 that I didn’t want to have kids. I tried to get my tubes tied, but the doctor wouldn’t do it. She said I was too young; that I would change my mind when I found the right guy. I laughed in her face, changed doctors, and was afraid to ask again. It wasn’t that I thought I would change my mind. It was that I didn’t want people pushing their religious agenda on me. (Welcome to Ohio, Nelson!)

I KNEW that kids were never in my future, but sometime after my father died, I found myself doubting that decision. I had almost talked myself into believing that I wanted kids. That I would raise some little hockey players. That I would name the first one Nicholas, the second one Charlie.  I started to want to have kids. I never said anything to anyone about it, but I was feeling a lot of pressure from a lot of different places, and all I wanted to do was fit in.

I don’t remember when I came to my senses but after we moved back to New England, I finally had my tubes tied.

No… this isn’t where I say I’m sorry I got my tubes tied. After all, I keep coming back to where I’m supposed to be, right?

This is where I announce the startling realization that while I’m still very anti-kid, my resolve may be weakening.

Will I ever WANT to hold Bean, babysit him, blah blah blah? OH HELL NO!

But I’m open to spending time with Bean - as long as his parents are there.

And that, believe it or not, is progress.