I pride myself on not getting all riled up about other people’s parenting choices. There are just too many emotions that get dredged up, and I need to parcel that anguish out in better and more deserving areas of my life. Like getting super upset about having to talk on the phone or how my kid discovered Dora in her 11th hour of childhood. (We were so close.)
One type of headline, though, makes me burn with fire in spite of myself. The good old “I didn’t know I was pregnant until my butt started to cry.”
It makes me angry because I can’t help but think, “liars!” Then it makes me sad, because these clueless women are now in charge of raising these “unexpected” children.
But today I decided to take some advice that I’m sure is on some meme that’s been pinned 766 times on Pinterest: If You Don’t Like What You See, Look At It Differently.
So, rather than confront these women so I can pepper them with suspicious questions, I choose instead to worship them.
They did the impossible.
They created life without ANY of the vomiting, ripe sprouting acne, stretch marks, diarrhea, constipation, hair loss, hysterical hormonal mood swings, feet swelling like rising bread, or gut plumping side effects.
Really, if you think about it, they are the most blessed woman on the entire planet. They are the reason the #blessed hashtag was invented.
I want to go to them and feel their skin and stroke their hair and inspect them without regard for personal boundaries as if they were a magical being from another world.
Let me just lick one of their tears. Let me ask them to touch my moles so that they might never need sunscreen again. Let me place their hands on my chest, right above my rabbit-like beating heart so that I might live forever.
Then, let me ask them a few questions.
Can you smell the sunrise?
Does black salty licorice taste good to you?
Can you keep all the characters on Game of Thrones straight without having to pause and be all “WHO, WHAT?”
Can you parallel park in just one try?
Do you always know which grocery line will move the quickest?
Is it possible to work my way through my Netflix List in my lifetime?
Is there a heaven, and if so, will it have an open bar?
ANSWER ME, oh glorious ones.
Sweet missing menses, it worked. Now I’m totally not upset with these women. I’m frankly just jealous as hell that instead of ten months of total mind, body and soul annihilation, they basically just had a really loud and surprising shit.