Category Archives: Feelings

I had always expected that once I was married and around the age of 30, there’d be some talk on the very delicate subject of the creation of those tiny human creatures that sort of look like you. Aka children. However, I was not warned that this is what all my girlfriends will ever wanna talk about, all the freakin’ time.

Last night, I had dinner with my friend Cat, who I haven’t seen since April. We hugged, she mentioned she was exhausted from a long week of work, I added that I knocked out for a freakish 12 hours the night before. She gasped. “Are you pregnant? Do your boobs hurt?” she asked. This was before we’d even gotten our menus.

No and no, by the way.

Literally every conversation with literally every one of my (married, 30-ish, still childless) girlfriends somehow turns to, “So when are you guys gonna have kids?” I’m not at all offended by the question as those who ask are typically good friends whom I like to share things with, and child-rearing just happens to be on their minds. I’m just, as I am in many other areas in life, confused. I never know how to respond, so I usually throw out, “Oh, like in a year, I think.” A year, to me, just sounds, I dunno, like a reasonable amount of time to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my reproductive future.

The truth is, we have no idea. Kids. Yeah. They’re really cute. And they’re all up in my Facebook news feed. I want one! Or a pair. It’d be fun to have a little friend to name and hug and dress up like lobsters and take to the Grand Canyon. (I’ve never been and Matt says we can go when we have kids.) Asians do make ridiculously adorable munchkins. But do I really, really want one? I do. I think.

Do I?

I do in my head, but it pains me that the desire does not rage in my heart. I’ve wanted jobs, boys, heck, even greasy pizza (OK, I was probably drunk) more than I want a baby in that visceral way. I think Matt feels similarly. Recently, we were talking about infertility, and he asked me: If we for some reason can’t have children naturally, would we go to great (very expensive) lengths to keep trying? We both didn’t know the answer.

For me, because I used to watch too many movies and too much TV (I don’t anymore because I’m crazy busy), I always just assumed that even women who don’t have that maternal rush suddenly develop it the moment the kid pops out, you know, like with Miranda in Sex and the City or Keri Russell’s character in Waitress. It will all suddenly make sense. So I just have to go for it.

But honestly, I’m scared. Could I possibly be a suitable mother? I drop a lot of things and I require a lot of sleep and I have a deep phobia of vomit (true story). And I love the way things are right now between me and Matt. Will a baby change that?

Also, I’m tired of life running me instead of the other way around. I want to want this. I want to be ready.

But how do you know when you’re ready?

I am currently sitting in a half-empty apartment. We still have a full month on our lease, but we were looking at our calendars the other day and our weekends in April are completely booked, and then Matt happened to get a hold of a U-Haul yesterday, so on a sort-of whim, we moved half of our stuff to the new place.

It’s sad, in a way. While packing up each dish and sofa pillow, I was like, “Wait! We have to remember this.” This past year has been so busy, so dizzying, I feel like I’ve had no time for reflection, and a girl’s gotta reflect.

Sure, this apartment is shitty—the kitchen cabinets never close, the bathroom faucet leaks unceasingly and it feels like there’s a small-magnitude earthquake every time our upstairs neighbors walk across the room—but it’s our shitty apartment. For the next couple weeks, at least. This place will always be our first home together. And that’s a big deal, not because it really is a big deal, but because I want it to be a big deal. And so it is.

The stories I have of this place are nothing extraordinary. We sat at the kitchen table with our laptops. We tried to cook (and both succeeded and failed). We watched entire seasons of HIMYM and Modern Family in one sitting. We played Angry Birds and Words With Friends side by side. We had friends over. We drank beer and wine. We danced in our PJs. We argued about furniture. We got each other glasses of water before bed. We tucked each other in.

But I just know we’re gonna look back at this time one day and think, yeah, that was something.

Life is moving so fast. Is it just me? It’s like, I have to do this and this and this before THIS, and it’s sort of freaking me out. For a moment, I just want to stop and take it all in.

Lately, I’ve been experiencing something I’ve never really experienced in my entire writing/blogging career. Haters. It’s interesting. I see filth on the internet all the time, but once the name-calling and attacks were directed at me, it was like, wait, what? What’s going on, internet? Why aren’t you telling me I’m smart and pretty and I smell like flowers? Isn’t that what your purpose is? As a chronic people-pleaser, I’ve been feeling rather crumpled, which has been especially frustrating because confidence is what fuels my work.

Anyway, I’m not sure if any of you guys have experienced this. If so, I sympathize—it’s not fun at all! Tim Ferriss has some really great advice on dealing with haters, and so do those Glee kids. Seriously, haters gonna hate. It sucks, but what-ever.

These are the words of the infamous Tiger Mom, the words I’ve been trying to engrave into my brain. Without getting too specific, the past couple of weeks have been anything but fun. I’ve taken on some new challenges, and for the first time in a while, I’ve been struck with serious self-doubt. I hate it. I can’t wait to be me again. The me that is awesome. Baby steps, I suppose.

I miss you, too.

People always make fun of my driving. (I took my driving test four times, yada yada yada.) I remember one time, Matt sort of stood up for me, saying my driving isn’t “bad,” it’s just that when you’re riding in my car, you don’t really feel like I’m in control. It’s as if the car is driving me. I’ve been thinking about that lately and how it’s a good metaphor for my life. I oftentimes don’t feel like I’m in control. I just kind of go where the road takes me. But I’m learning that when you just go where the road takes you, you don’t go very far. To get anywhere, you need a GPS and maybe some iPhone traffic alerts. And most importantly, you need a destination. They always say life is about the journey, blah, blah, but you can’t just hang out on the road, singing along to your roadtrip playlist forever. You’ll eventually get a cramp and get cranky. You need a destination before you can sit back and enjoy the scenery. Otherwise you’re really just a passenger. And that’s all I have to say about driving.

Sometimes I think about Arizona. I haven’t been back since I moved to LA nearly three years ago. I think about the evening drives, the majestic sky, the warm, still nights. Mostly, I think about my old job there, how it challenged and fed me, how I was surrounded by some of the most talented, passionate people I’ve ever known. I think about who I was then, so young, so overwhelmed, so lucky. When I think of my short time in Arizona, I think, yeah, that was good.

It’s funny. I never really thought of myself as the super positive type but when I think about my past, I only remember the good. When I think about Arizona, I don’t think about how out of place I felt at times, how I would sit on my bed for entire weekends straight, with nothing really to do, no one really to see. I don’t think about how hard it was to be away from Matt, the hundreds of “I miss yous,” the tears that always came every time we pulled up to the departures line at the airport. I don’t think about how miserably hot those summers were (oh sweet Jesus, those were temperatures no human should ever have to bear). I don’t think about my frustration with everything in the end, how I just wanted to go home for good.

No, I don’t think about those things. I only think about how good my life has been, how many opportunities I’ve had since college, how many amazing people I’ve met. I guess this is a just a reminder that all the things that suck won’t really matter in the end.

When I look at my life now — living with my parents, planning a wedding and stressing about my career (as always) — I wonder what I’ll remember. What will I carry with me? What will I take away?

I want to know, so I can embrace it as it unfolds.

(Photo credit)