I need a baby. Or vodka. Or both.
Somebody needs to loan me a baby, or a toddler, STAT.
Not for long. Maybe a week, or two.
Preferably under the age of 4. Not potty-trained. Not sleeping through the night. Super needy. The bigger the asshole, the better (I’ll take a good one, might just need to keep em longer).
Why the fuck would I want to do this to myself, you may ask?
Well, if I’m not reminded why I don’t need/want/shouldn’t have any more kids, I might do something stupid.
Not that I can physically get pregnant, nor do I want to. Pregnancy sucked balls for me. But there’s more than one way to get a kid.
And that’s the problem. This past week, it’s been painfully obvious that I don’t really have KIDS, I have pre-adults, and it’s completely freaking me out.
I spent 5 days with my daughter, who just finished her freshman year of high school, in Texas for a regional gymnastics competition. There were hundreds of moments that I caught myself thinking how grown and independent she has become. She didn’t need me to tag along to the pool at 10 pm with her friends or walk next door to get ice cream with the team. In fact, there were way more opportunities to be a teenager (otherwise known as check out boys and test the cussing skills) without Mom.
Then, I come home to my baby, my sweet little boy, who is officially done with elementary school. I didn’t really give the finality much thought until now. He’s always been kinda mature for his age, stopped acting like a “little kid” a few years ago, so it’s not new to me that I see him as growing up. But then this week happened. The last field day ever. The last recess that the dogs and I walk by the playground to say Hi at 12:30. Then the nail in the heart, the 5th grade continuation ceremony. Bam. Done.
I’ve always thought each new phase of their life was so interesting and new and exciting. But this kinda sucks.
I’m sure I’ll get over it. Logically, I also realize that with their independence comes mine. I can leave the house without a babysitter. No one is attached to my hip or my tit (except the proverbial money-teet, and my husband on a good night). And this new phase of no little kids will be fun, exciting, and challenging, just like all of the rest.
But not right now. Not today.
Today I need someone to give me a friggin kid to ease this restlessness.
Or vodka. You could give me that too.