And we have another item to cross off the Baby Bucket List!

We bought a new vehicle. After three years of being having just one vehicle, while we still have one vehicle, we have upgraded. We traded in Marmot’s single cab stick shift Toyota Tacoma for a Ford F150 that has leather interior, butt warmers, and extended cab so the dogs can ride with us. And yes, those were my three requirements for a new vehicle.

Its one more item being crossed off the list. Can I just say that the pace that the items are flying off the list is a little shocking to me?? And we’re just picking up steam, we’ll have three more to cross off in the next three months…wow!

Its amazing to me that there are so many rules to being a mom. The biggest one is that you have to adore your child at the expense of anything you’ve ever valued before you have kids, and motherhood seems to require an innate sense of superiority. I find it so off-putting as a non-mom, and intimidating as I’m viewing what seems to be the required mantra of those with children.

Have you guys heard of this book, Bad Mother, by Ayelet Waldman? Apparently she’s the woman who has rocked the Mommies world by saying she loves her husband more than her kids.

Its funny, because actually reading about the reaction made me roll my eyes. Yet another concept that the Mommies are up in arms over! The cardinal sin, betrayal of what being a mother truly is- total and complete devotion to your children, at the expense of your spouse, your career and everything else. To do anything else means you are, well, a bad mother. The shame of not being perfect!

When I was growing up, I knew without a doubt that while my Mom absolutely adored us, and really most of her daily life revolved around us (homeschooling!) she and my Dad were the adults in the house, and ranked higher than the kids. I remember the first time I rode with a friend and her family- the mother sat in the backseat so one of the kids could sit in the front, and we listened to the radio station that the kids wanted to listen to. Such a contrast to the way I grew up! Dad always said that you could pick the radio station when you were the driver. After I turned 16 and started driving, the rule was amended to the radio station was chosen by the owner of the car. And when it was my car and I was the driver, he resorted to the rule of whoever was the most senior in the vehicle.

When we made family decisions, Mom and Dad had two votes each, and the kids each got one vote. My parents considered what we wanted, but in the end we did what served our family the best and sometimes that was what served my parents the best.

Its a far cry from what I see now, in blogs and books and the media. And the guilt that is associated with anything short of the utmost devotion is truly intimidating.

Dear Honey, This is your Mother speaking.

I see everyone doing this new “Birth Story” thing; I thought to myself, maybe you would like to have yours – as a keepsake of how you came into the world 29 years ago last month. So my dear, in honor of your Birthday- I have decided to tell you your very own “Birth Story”!

Ground rules:

1. Remember things were different then, this is a “Retro Birth Story” really. Kind of a history lesson of sorts. Not that I am that old… but you are.
2. I am not going to start at the very beginning, if you know what I mean. Every time the subject comes up of your Father and I having any sort of a sexual relationship you start running around the room sticking an imaginary stick in your eye and screaming “I can’t get the pictures out of my mind!!!” Lets not go through that again shall we?
3. If I happen to add pictures – be kind. You too will look back 30 years from now and wonder what kind of drugs would numb your mind and innate sense of style, to such an extent that you would wear some of these maternity fashions.

Now, onto the story.

You were not a planned pregnancy. I know that this may come as a shock to you. Birth control never seemed to work for us. Your father likes to say “We defied all forms of birth control one at a time…” and you my dear were the first. Personally, I believe if the package says 97% effective, you should expect triplets.

We found out about you (our little blessing) on a road trip vacation we were taking prior to Left Brain (your Father) starting Medical School. I spent the scenic drive around Lake Michigan in the back seat of our blue ’67 Mustang with my feet hung out the little back window. Your Father was in the front relating the sights and scenery to me and the dog, who was taking my place in the front seat. We had to stop periodically so I could run into the bushes at the side of the road and throw up.

Fast forward a few months, and we arrive at Lamaze Classes. They were sponsored by the hospital then, the cost was twenty dollars, and all the forward thinking, hippie types were doing it. The classes consisted of 8 couples – husbands and wives – yes everyone in our class was married, to each other no less! We were mostly first year Medical student couples – doing this for the first time and trying to act like we were veterans. Eight classes, twice weekly, and homework assigned for the days in between. I remember “Packing your overnight bag for the hospital” was one of the more thought provoking homework lessons. The big draw was printed in the brochure…. Movie of an actual birth – session #7.

When asked on the first day of class what type of birth we were doing, we all said “Natural”, rather smugly. As if just the act of making the decision was all there was to it. We were smart, cocky women in our twenties. Having grown up in the sixties and seventies we were a oozing with womanly confidence – we opened our own doors – we let the hair grow on our legs – we we didn’t wear bras unless we wanted to. I felt like the Captain of the Starship Enterprise as I confidently piloted it off into the unknown,”Direct course to planet Perfect Delivery “—- “Left-Brain, make it so.” Natural to us meant no drugs for pain. That was it – simple.

Session #4 – There was one couple missing – the instructor announced that our new friends, Keith and Andrea had given birth to a healthy baby boy! Ahhhh, Ohhhhh, clap,clap. Lucky us, she had talked them into coming later tonight to give us their story. More clapping, cheering and great anticipation. About an hour later a haggard, rumpled whisp of a man came through the door. At first glance I thought that this guy had obviously gotten the wrong room – the AA meeting was down the hall Mister! But then I realized it was him, our new friend, Keith, alone. He spoke slowly and quietly, his head down, occasionally running his still shaking hand through his unwashed hair and mumbling. “It had started two days ago with her water breaking at the kitchen sink. …” He continued to a suspenseful audience. Excitedly they had grabbed their “birth bag” and “labor journal” and headed for the hospital. Five minutes into the drive she had her first contraction. Unfortunately, she grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and his thigh with the other. They went veering wildly into the median, hopping briefly over into oncoming traffic. By the time the contraction ended and he had control of the car they had mowed down a half a mile of decorative conifers and flowering tulips. Then next contraction had her on the floor below the front seat screaming that she had changed her mind and didn’t want to do this anymore. By the time they got to the hospital she had announced that she hated children, and was loudly praying to St. Jude that his penis would fall off. The class was silent.

Session #5 – Two more couples gone. We waited for our cheery instructor to tell us the news. One girl and one boy. Mild applause. Secretly, at break time, Kurt and Lisa shared with the rest of us nervous newbies that they were friends with one of the missing couples. It had not gone well, posterior presentation, back labor, two hours of pushing culminating in a C-section they whispered.

Session #6 – We visually took attendance the minute we hit the door. We were all there, the last five couples. Relief was short lived as the unusually solemn instructor told us that couple number three was having some postpartum depression problems. The beautiful baby girl had been released to the care of the father, while the mother had been admitted to the Psych unit for an undetermined amount of time. Gasp!

Session #7 – The movie of the live birth. During the preparation you could have heard a pin drop. But once the lights went out the sniffing and whimpering began. During the very realistic pushing scene we had one fellow jump to his feet and run from the room covering his mouth with his sweaty hand and wretching. Note: Your father turned to me,looked me right in the eyes and said “Must have been something he ate.” It’s a miracle we are still married.

Go to Part II and Part III!

So up to the time that I married Marmot, avoidance of pregnancy was a big deal. Uber-religious families, sneaky living arrangements, it all played into and IUD and pretty much always double-rainjackets, if you know what I mean.

{Side Note: I thought we were hiding the living arrangements fairly well from Queen B. because she lived on a different flipping continent, but she knew and she and my Dad messed with me, pretending they didn’t know but doing little things to wig me out- I know, how evil right? Totally going to get the cheap nursing home now.}

I was 25 when I got married, and had always planned on finishing school and all before I had kids. And being perfectly honest, I was pretty much anti-kids. {I referred to them as snot-nosed terrorists. Charming, I know.} Holding babies made me nervous, and I never thought they were as cute as anyone else did. I loved my job and wanted to do a career before kids. So during our kids talks before we got married, I always told Marmot that I was thinking maybe starting having kids when we’ve been married four or five years if at all. He would agree with me, smiling, and say maybe three years.

Fast forward to our honeymoon. All of a sudden I realize that it is totally okay for me to get pregnant. No shame! I remember this epiphany, we were in our hotel room in Mexico, Marmot was in bed recovering from Montezuma’s reign of Mexican buffet terror. He did convince me to wait to consider trying until he recovered and we got home from our honeymoon, and later conversations convinced me that waiting a year was a good idea, and maybe we should keep track of these things we want to do, and call it a Baby Bucket List! And thus the Honey B. blog was born.

But anyway, you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Remember the snot-nosed terrorist thing? I think I might be back there. During the baby fever that I’ve had over the past three years, I never said that. I awwwed over toddlers with pigtails, and would look at baby clothes every time I was in TJ Maxx. I thought about how I would decorate the little guest room as a nursery, and should I even bother doing it as a guestroom? We even tried to get pregnant for a few months.

But now, I have absolutely no baby fever at all. Instead I have the eerily familiar irritation of children at Target. Narrowed eyes looking for the screamer that was near my gate as I was getting ready to board a flight last month. The complete bypass of the baby section at TJ Maxx. This is the me that considered never having children. Because I really am thinking about what a childfree-by-choice life would be like.

I’m back to baseline. And I’m not sure what to do about it, because Marmot is ready. And here I am, thinking that not having kids really makes sense on a lot of levels. *gulp*

So you want to hear something funny? I gave the link of my blog to my boss today. She’s very cool, although admittedly its possible she thinks I’m funny just because she’s new. I’ve talked about blog posts before though- although now that I think about it, it was more about the intellectual ones that I put on other sites than the dorky ones…oh man, did I tell her I don’t post anything intellectual on this blog?!

The whole thing does lead to some philosophical issues.

The first is, I probably should have prefaced this giving of the URL with a solemn vow that nothing she sees here should be reflected in her opinions of me or my yearly performance evals. (Note to Self: remove the Bathroom Disaster post).

The second issue is, should I tell Queen B. that my boss might read the blog? (Second Note to Self: remove the Fertilitea post) If I do, there is a good chance she’ll make me cancel the upcoming post I have about what sex is really like after marriage.

But wait a second. This is an anonymous blog. She can’t prove who I am. (Third Note to Self: remove Sisters posts with picture of my sisters and I posing in the fountain in the park). I have plausible deniability! Well then, on we go!

Sex posts coming up, stay tuned! And welcome to the blog dear Boss, I hope you can keep a straight face at work now if I ever have to talk to someone about professionalism!

Honey, This is your Mother speaking,

I knew this new header was a bad idea Honey.

I knew it looked like I was puttering around under my own power! Not a very ladylike picture of your Mother – wouldn’t you agree? But you said “No, nobody will think that Mom, just relax.”  Well darlin’ did you see the comment from Samantha???? She said it looked like I had a little to much nectar!

Great, just great! We have a new header -that I had to pay for, thank you very much {Mom, you didn’t pay for it! But are you offering??} and I look like I am flying under the influence!

I think you should reconsider, or at least give me something fashionable that’s gas powered- like a Vespa!

Love from your Mother,
Queen B.