A Room with a View

09.22.2010

If you’ve read past entries and remember, you know I’ve lived in my apartment for 27 years. As a result, I’ve lived in every bedroom at different points in my life so you can imagine that I should know the view from each window pretty well. But, as this morning proved, I don’t.

Before going on my walk, I decided to be good and stretch. While stretching my quads, I looked out of the window and noticed that I could see this one house’s attic. It took a moment to realize that that’s what I was looking at and then I was taken aback. How many times did I look out of this same window and how did I never see an attic?

Then, while on my walk, I reached a street that’s on my route and, for reasons that don’t matter, decided to cross it and walk on the other side. I started to notice scenes that I had never seen before. I questioned how after 31 years of living in the same town, how did I never notice certain building’s designs and architecture, windows, colors and shapes?

By this point in the morning, I had two examples of looking at something I saw for decades and it appearing different. This got me thinking. What if I shifted my own kaleidoscopic perspective on having kids and looked at it through different shapes and colors?

So I did.

I imagined we had a kid of about three and he was in the car with me singing his ABCs from the backseat. I imagined our daughter asking “Why?” after anything and everything I said. I imagined her being held by Rob as he swung her up and down, giggling.

I then imagined midnight feedings, diaper changes, and temper tantrums. I imagined holding her hand at the doctor’s office as she got a shot or feeling bad that I worked late and missed bedtime. I imagined feeling both scared and elated for his future and insecure of my decisions. I imagined family gatherings and family vacations, and even alone time with Rob talking about all the silly things our kid says and does.

This exercise made me think about how it doesn’t matter how conservatively or liberally we live our live. We are creatures of habit; we like our patterns and rituals. It’s hard to force yourself to look through the same window of your life and see something different because we often don’t pay attention to the details. But when it happens, whether consciously or by accident, the experience offers an awakening to the fact that there’s more to life than the daily grind.

The conclusion to my kaleidoscopic shift of a possible future with a kid is –

Well, let’s say that I liked what I saw. Poopy diapers and all.

A Little Bit O' Drama Never Hurt

08.04.2010

Breaking news: I really think something is wrong with me. Like, I’m sure I look normal to someone who randomly glances at me. But there’s something off.

I finally made it to the gyno this morning and I shared the waiting room space with a bunch of expectant mothers, children, and one brand new baby. I mean, brand spankin’ new. I felt like an alien because I wanted to run screaming. I can’t help but look at a pregnant woman and think of how odd her body looks. Honestly, I never thought of pregnancy as beautiful or not until Rob mentioned years ago that it freaks him out. So I have inevitably adopted this mentality.

Once in the room and waiting for the doctor, I realized that this vacillation is typical of me. While an undergraduate at SMC, I had 5 different majors; a new one each semester. Making a commitment to something that has to do with the rest of my life is stressful and difficult for me. Rob seems to be the only commitment I never hesitated on. Why can’t the rest of the decisions be this easy?

I knew in 7th grade that I’d major in History and yet, once I hit college, I thought about archeology, anthropology, English literature, and pre-med only to ultimately come back to what I knew since 1987. (I wanted to major in film more than anything else but, well…that’s a long story.)

There are very few things in my life that I treat with pompous production and this is because I grew up with an artist mother and an artist/singer sister. Pompous productions don’t always have to be bad but I err on the side of simplicity. Usually. I suppose I can strive to be as different as I can from my mother…but the apple really doesn’t fall that far from the tree. I apparently like a little bit of drama.

Stay tuned…