Its All In The Genes
This is not something I admit often, so listen up, dear readers:
With some things, I’m a very public scaredy-cat. Roller coasters drop my stomach to my knees, costumes need to be just so or else I’ve failed the entire weekend, and those dreaded evil arachnids are in fact out to eat me. But when it comes to tackling the big issues, I’m tough. I’m strong. I’m determined and eager and don’t let hiccups slow me down. This whole wedding fiasco is a good example: while most brides at this point would be panicking at the lack of JP or ceremony music or even just at the quickly approaching date, I’m still cool. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to. My ever-solid faith in the universe helps keep the pressure down.
Except I think I’ve found a situation – one that is unavoidable – that has me shaking in my pirate boots. And it’s all thanks to the wedding and, curiously enough, this blog I’ve been reading lately.
Girl. Inspired is this really great, really visually pleasing craft blog I’ve been inhaling recently. I’m going back, post by post, reading all the incredible
crafts, decor, food stuffs, and more that Stef puts together, all while juggling a household and three (adorable) girls. Her blog has me thinking (especially this post to her daughter, which is the most heartfelt thing I’ve read in a very long time) about my future as a mom, housewife, and crafter. She seems to handle everything well, and its the kind of crafty mom that I dream of being.
I’ve always thought of how I plan to raise my children; and when I say always, I mean it. For as long as I can remember, I looked forward to being a mom. There was even a time when I was in grade school that I wanted – actually desired – to be a single working mother. (Not surprisingly, this was around the time it was just my mom and me, trying to make it on our own.) I’ve always been the eldest of my cousins, and family used to call me a mother hen. I babysat. I had a brief stint as a preschool teacher. What can I say? I love kids. And having so much interaction with them has really helped to get me thinking about how I want to raise my own. But that’s all its been; idle thought.
Unless you don’t pay attention, just today found my blog, and/or don’t know me in real life, you should know I’m getting married. Very soon. To me, as much as I love my fiance, I think I’m actually more excited to have children than to get married. (Let’s face it; marriage isn’t required to build a family these days.) My mum is even looking forward to the day she gets to claim hold on some grandbabies. Which means that it’s coming, folks; I’m gonna be a mom, and probably soon.
I’ve been reading, and I’m prepared for the pregnancy. I want to train to become a doula, so reading about pregnancy is
sort of required. There are lots of beautiful women around me right now who are pregnant, or just had babies (Happy Two Weeks, Alanna Marie!), and its all making me think. The babies around me, the wedding around the corner, the beautiful blog posts from a crafter-mom.
I’m not ready, and that scares me.
Let me rephrase: I’m not prepared. Mentally, I’m ready. Financially, well… I’ll be ready next spring. The apartment we live in now could definitely
make room for a nursery. Emotionally, I’ve been ready since the day I was born. But for preparedness? I’d score a zero. I know that one can never truly be prepared, especially if its your first child. But I love my yet-to-be-born children and my role as their mom so much that the thought of not being perfect for them is terrifying.
I know I won’t be. I know we’ll screw up. I could say now that I’ll do everything right: no TV, limited media, educational activities, healthy organic foods, always engaged, etc etc. But I’ll get tired and plop them in front of some cartoon. (Hell, I couldn’t last a weekend with my niece without doing it; granted, she’s used to that and asked for it. Repeatedly.) I’ll let them have pizza for breakfast, or a less than balanced lunch. Chicken nuggets and fries for dinner. Plain old coloring instead of activity worksheets and color wheels. Its impossible to be super mom. I know this.
It doesn’t stop me from wanting it.
I don’t think it helps that there’s overwhelming amounts of information, tips, and techniques available nowadays to add to the fear. Not to pick on Stef, but Girl. Inspired makes it look so easy to be a wonder mom that it makes me wonder: how can I ever live up to the expectations I’ve placed upon myself?
I’m not looking for sympathy, folks. I don’t want consolations, or “Aw, you’ll be fine!”s. If you’re a mom or dad, what do you do to be the best parents your children deserve? And if you don’t have kids yet, what do you want to do?
Is anyone else scared, or is it just me?