I spent three years, thousands of dollars, numerous hours in doctors visits, and countless tears getting the two wonderful babies I have.  I have a healthy boy and was doubly blessed only one year and 4 days later with a healthy (even if a little early) baby girl.  I should be happy with that and satisfied.  Jim and I talk often about being “done” having kids.  Logic tells me it’s the right decision.  Our house is only big enough for two kids.  Most restaurant tables and booths are made for a family of four.  All vehicles will carry two children.  When we go to amusement parks in the future and are going to ride the roller coaster, there are perfect pairs to ride together – no odd man out.  There’s no middle child to feel “left out.”  Financially, 2 children is more affordable.  I plan to home school and with Alex and Jackson being so close together I won’t have the big difference in curriculum.  I’m getting older and Jim is 10 years older than me.  See, my brain says it makes total sense to stop at the two wonderful children I have.  But there’s this other thing: heart?  spirit?  intuition? that says I MAY not be done yet.  I just don’t know.  But, I DO KNOW I am not interested in doing anything at this point to permanently sterilize either myself or Jim.  I just want the option. 

Ever since I began wanting children (which stems back to playing with baby dolls) I thought I would have two boys and a girl.  That is what my Mom and Dad had though – so maybe that’s where I get this notion.  I’ve had names picked out for my little guys for over 5 years now.  Jackson was my first.  My second boy’s name is Maxwell (Max).  I can see him as plainly as I can see Jackson in my mind’s eye.  He exists, kind of like when you have to go pick your child up from school.  You know they are there waiting for you to go get them.  It’s that strong.  But, for all the reasons in the previous paragraph I just wonder if that isn’t just a childish dream and vision. 

When will I know for sure? 

I’ve heard that when your family is complete “you know.”  So, since I don’t “know” right now maybe it isn’t?  Or maybe in a couple of years that feeling will wash over me and I will be able to relax and feel comfortable in the decision I’ve made.     

I’ve lived in this little, sleepy, wonderful town for almost 5 years and just last summer I made what I would call  “life long friends.”  Not that I didn’t try before now but it’s just not as easy as I remember it in school.  Remember the days on the playground where you would see a new face and see that person as a potential playmate?  A wonderful new adventure to be bestowed upon?  There were no thoughts of rejection. There were no fears.  Just happiness met with fun.  I wish it could be like that once the reality of human relationships is learned.  But, we all know, it’s not that easy any more.  I thought once I found my husband the nervous, “Will they like me?” feeling waned.  But, no, it is just as hard when looking for a true friend. One in which you can just pick up the phone just to chat.  One that you can call just to say, “I’m bored, let’s do something” and hear a cheerful, “Ok!” in response.  One you can count on.

First is the daunting question; where do I find such a person?  It’s not like I can just go to the park and approach a woman, is it?  I know! I’ll join every social club, group and support clique I can find.  That surely will yeild results.  Or maybe just someone I see at the grocery store?  What happened in my life is all of the above.  I met Tess at a breastfeeding support group at my local hospital.  It only met once a month and it is really hard to even learn peoples’ names in that short amount of time.  Then I would see her at Wal-Mart with her kids.  I would say “hi” in passing but then would be like, “what was her name?”  The response in her eyes said she had the same questions.  Then I saw her at the park.  Again, “Hi” we would say but never anything more.  Finally after months of this I finally got up the courage and started a conversation with her and admitted I didn’t remember her name.  The relief left her face as she admitted the same.  From that point on we have been great friends.  We had more chemistry from the start than I had found with many of the other “friends” I had made at church or other areas.  Our kids are best friends as well and we know we can count on each other for a laugh, something to do on a boring Monday, and a sweat tea from McD’s.

Tess and her kids

I have since learned that Tess is a friend in which I can always count on an honest answer from.  The woman knows everything about everything!  Seriously! If I mention how I have a birds nest above my deck she knows how to keep that from happening (plastic snakes).  How to keep flies away at an outside picnic?  (Ziploc bag full of water with a penny in it setting on the table).  How to make homemade play-dough?  How to knit?  Where to find the best deals on just about anything?  How to make a DVD of your kids’ pictures?  What are the good shows on TV?  How to keep a house clean AND have two children and a husband?  The list goes on and on.  It cracks me up when I hear her say, “I just feel like I don’t have it together.”  I look at her and think, “If you had it any more together you’d be mayor!”

Meet Courtney

It was through Tess I met Courtney.  A shy woman with so much unknown beauty.  If she could just see what everyone else sees, she would be so much happier.  A woman so shy she avoids situations she really loves.  Yet, everyone around her is thinking, “What does SHE have to be worried about?  She beautiful, sweet, smart, kind, a good mother, and a wonderful sense of humor.”  But, inside of her she thinks people are thinking, “Look at her, she’s gained weight.” or something of the kind.  This girl can make me laugh so hard.  She doesn’t even try most of the time but her mind works a little different than mine so she’s always surprising me with what she says and I love it!  She’s crazy in love with her kids (like all good mothers are).  She keeps the cleanest house I’ve ever seen.  To a fault at times probably but that’s who she is.

These two women aren’t perfect which makes them perfect friends for me.

This blog is simply a selfish endeavor in which I plan to put down all the stuff I don’t usually write because I’m busy wiping butts and feeding faces (and in the unfortunate days visa versa).  Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE being a Mommy….oh I guess I should correct that.  I love being a “Bobby.”  My son began calling me this when he was about 17 months old.  He can say “Mommy” and does when he REALLY wants to get my attention (he is now just a little over 2).  It’s a pet name he has given me and I have to admit, I love it.  I assume that his little sis (just a month over 1 year old) will call me Bobby as well.  (Thus “THEY Call Me Bobby”).   But, so far, I’ve yet to hear anything out of her mouth in reference to me at all.  “Dada” gets all the glory around this house.  That’s fine with me.  I’m a big fan of him too.   So, my reasoning for doing this? 

Today my Mom called and said she had found a manila envelope with a bunch of my writing in it.  It was a portal to the confused college days of my life.  She read them to me and I laughed but also thought, “I forgot how much I enjoyed writing.”  And although it was written from the point of view of a young woman confused of where her life was headed, it wasn’t too horrible.  I know many rock songs, great rock songs, that were inspired by the angst that is teenage and 20 something age.  This was by no means that good, but it was ok. 

One thing she read was from January 2000. I had yet to meet my husband.  I had recently broke up with a guy I had dated for 3 years seriously.  My family loved him.  My friends loved him.  Strangers took to him.  He was “Mr. Good Guy.”  In my writing I wonder why I couldn’t love him.  My head told me he was a good guy, “Supported me, Loved me, treated me great, didn’t drink or smoke.”  But, I just couldn’t ignore my heart telling me HE ISN’T THE ONE.  But at the time I was scared, no petrified, that I would never find that love that I had read so many times about.  What if that “good enough” feeling is all that was out there?  That meant I had just thrown away a “good guy.”  Mr Good Guy was, in retrospect, in “real” love with me.  I now look back and have a new found sadness for him.  I can only imagine if once I had found my now husband, and felt the way I do about him, how it would have hurt if he didn’t reciprocate the feeling.  But, I am so glad I didn’t settle. 

Just a month or so later, I met the man I now call my husband, Jim.  But, the writings of the girl that day were a scared girl, lost in her life, feeling as if she was spinning her wheels and would never be satisfied or happy. 

The last sentence of that particular entry my Mother read to me said, “I hope when I’m like (I used to say LIKE a lot-very illustrative of the place I was in my life) 28 or 29 I can look back on this and read this and laugh at my immature confusion.”  And I did just that.  I am so glad my life turned out as it has. 

My writing skills have defintely rusted over the years but my hope is that with time and practice I can get the ol’ machine cleaned up and with some WD-40 on the squeaky gears.  This is what this blog is for.