A Case for Procreation

Yesterday, I had the delightful experience of baby-sitting a 3 year old boy and a 1 year old girl. To say I would want to do it again would be (sort of) lying. I COULD do it again but I don't know if I WOULD do it again and I like the kids I sat with. Maybe once a week maybe even once a month but everyday - that's pushing it. Yes, I know, Moms do it everyday but that's their choice. I choose to sit around all day drinking coffee and reading, happy that I can open my non-child safety locked fridge.

I didn't sleep the night before and had to wake up really early so David could drop me off because I still can't drive. It was a miracle I was able to function with little or no sleep but that is how I functioned working two jobs. (Isn't that the main prerequisite for being a parent? The ability to exist on no sleep?) I was going to be responsible for 2 children for more than 4 hours with no one to fill in if I got tired or bored. After consideration, I was a nervous, but confident I could manage.

The shift in the 80's and 90's from a single parent working home to a two parent working home and the use of day-cares has almost eliminated baby-sitting. Growing up, I wasn't one of those teenagers who was salivating for cash, could change a diaper, and baby-sat around the neighborhood. My parents didn't talk to other parents who had young children so I was never offered as a baby-sitter. Plus, I didn't really care for babies or children. Most, if not all, of my kid contact came late in my teen years and there was always someone else around to help.

Since I am married and have yet to birth a child everyone wants to know when and if David and I are going to have children. The answer is complicated and we go back and forth on the issue. Opportunities to baby-sit are an excellent window into the lives of people with children. For every rewarding moment and cute smile there is a disgusting diaper to change and the constant fear that a child is going to hurt themselves somehow. I already have OCD and germaphobe tendencies and I can't imagine bringing a child into that clean but manic environment. NO KIDS! But then I think, "David and I are two capable (okay, semi-capable) individuals who have the means to raise a potentially awesome, productive member of society. So we will have one. ONE. That's it. But how potentially lonely would that child's life be without siblings? Okay, maybe two kids. The difference in ages has to be enough so that the oldest is potty-trained and in school before the other one arrives. I am not doing double diaper duty. FINE! I can do double diapers BUT I want unlimited boxes of latex gloves because poopy diapers are disgusting and that stuff does not belong anywhere near my hands!"

I changed several diapers yesterday and it was not pleasant. Over time I became numb to the smell and I couldn't tell if they needed a diaper change or if I was just remembering the smell. People say, "It's different when they're your own kids." I can understand that but isn't poo gross no matter whose it is? Do David and I really need to have a child of our own to test this theory? Can't we just continue to borrow the neighbor's kids and his co-worker's kids whenever we feel parental urgings? Or is borrowing children just borrowing trouble and part of the reason we can't decide whether or not to spawn?

Operation Free Ticket Vouchers; Code Name: I Just Want to Go Home

Sometime last year David's mom called to tell me she was sending us two free airline ticket vouchers. I said "Thank you," and the first question out of my mouth was, "Can they be transferred?" She said they could and I waited for these magic tickets to arrive in the mail. When they arrived David's parents' names were on them with the word "non-transferable". Sirens went off in my head but David's mom said they could be transferred so I shut down my inner bitch/pessimist. In the back of my mind I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

Fast Forward to now. We've had these tickets for almost a year and FINALLY David decides to take a vacation. I would have gone home a hundred times myself by now but I get panicky and freak out in airports without a chaperone.

We picked a Saturday to take the vouchers to the airline ticket counter and try to book our flight. We were trying to book about a month out. I was hoping we would waltz up to the counter and the ticket agent would be wearing a jaunty little scarf and smile and say, "Why I sure can book you a flight with these tickets! Where to? How fun! Are you movie stars? Can I get you a soda while you wait?"

Our agent was nice and patient but since my last name isn't the same as David's and therefore not the same as the last name on the vouchers she could not book us a flight. (IRONY ALERT: That Saturday was the one-year anniversary of not changing my last name when we got married.) The ticket agent could reserve us a flight but we would still have to mail the vouchers back to David's mom (in California) and then she would have to go to a ticket counter and complete the reservation. I called and told her we were mailing her the vouchers and a confirmation number. She said she was going to the airport in about a week (to drop off another family member) and would take care of it then. I had a difficult time telling David's mom it couldn't wait she had to get to the airport sooner. I would never wish extra trips to the airport, any airport, on anyone.

We find the nearest Post Office and it would have been awesome if they had sci-fi technology to beam the vouchers to So-Cal. They didn't, so we priority mailed them. I was stressing and since we were close to a Macy's, I demanded David take me to the mall so I could engage in some retail therapy. David was hungry and he wanted to go to Denny's. Any other time I would have loved some pancakes but we were in one of the most ghetto parts of Cleveland and there was no way I was going to a Denny's there. I am almost positive I walked through a metal detector at the Post Office. I probably would have been patted down at a Denny's. I needed the safety of the mall, the smell of new clothes and the promise of shiny things preferably at half-off. David could eat at the mall while I shopped.

We get home and I'm on a retail high then I remember the airport, the tickets and my head starts to hurt. I remember we are going to fly home soon and that means security checks, lay-overs and no liquids over 3 ounces and I have to lay down. There is nothing we can do on our end.

David's mom gets the vouchers and finds a smaller, local airport she can go to get the reservations completed. When she gets there she finds an un-staffed ticket counter with a sign that says, "Will Return at 3:15" She goes home gets on the Internet and makes a few calls to the airline and gets nowhere. When she calls and tells me that I say, "Oh yeah. No, don't bother trying to call the airlines or use the Internet for this. I tried that months ago when we first got the vouchers nothing but dead-ends." She goes back to the airport and still no staff at the ticket counter. So she jumps the baggage-conveyor thingie and knocks on the door behind the counter. When she told me this I screamed, "OMG! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! AND YOU DIDN'T GET TASED?" When David heard that he said, "I love my mom." David: "The glass is half-full."

Anyway, long story short: Our reservations are gone so David has to rebook over the phone. Tickets get emailed to us and hopefully, HOPEFULLY, everything goes smoothly from here on out. I won't believe it until I'm on California soil having successfully made it through the airport and flight. Samina: "The glass is half-empty and you are going to knock it over and then where will be? You are going to get me another glass of whiskey is what you are going to be doing!"

Lessons learned: Free ticket vouchers are the equivalent of Denny's coupons. The airlines are going to make it extremely difficult for you to use them or transfer them. They don't want you to use them. They want you to give up and pay MONEY for a ticket. Obviously, they have never met my husband's family. My family would have just cussed a lot and maybe thrown a few punches. Both very effective.

And Many More

Birthdays become exponentially less awesome as we get older. There are those among us who try to keep birthdays alive and well. The girls who wear tiaras to work and then to the bar. The boys who treat themselves to an expensive electronic toy or piece of sports equipment. As if these gestures will mask the fact that time is marching on and birthdays are not just as fun as they were when we were six years old.

I had a birthday this month and it was my first birthday not in California. That means no family, no Disneyland and no shopping at my favorite malls to celebrate. Instead, I spent the day feeling...odd. David and I both sort of forgot my birthday was coming. We were vaguely aware it was soon but February ends so quickly and then WHAM it's March and I was like, "Umm, my birthday is now."

When I was working, I took my birthday off from at least one of my jobs if not both. That extra day off provided a distinction between the blur of endless workdays and my birthday. I'm not working so the days are a different kind of blur. Sleep in, stumble to Internet, wash dishes, check mail, try not to slip on ice and die and repeat. I have one major variation and that is the standing board game night we have at a friend's house. David actually plays and I sit around watching TV. Well, my birthday fell on Game Night and since we didn't have any birthday plans I felt bad throwing a hissy fit and demanding that he stay home. David isn't big on surprises so I knew he wasn't going to spring anything last minute.

Anyway, I decided we would buy a cake, take it to Game Night and do a mini-celebration there. The couple and assorted people we game with are really good friends. There is no reason to not celebrate with them. We stopped at the grocery store, scrutinized the bakery and decided to splurge on an ice cream cake. I carried my cake out and as I hit the slushy parking lot tears started to sting my eyes. I held it together and didn't end up weeping mostly because David might have snapped at me, "What are you crying about? I bought you a cake! Isn't that what you wanted?" Please do not think David is mean because he isn't. He's a guy which means he thinks like this: "Wife has birthday. Wife wants cake. Money can be exchanged for goods and services. Acquire cake. Cake acquired. Mission accomplished. Problem solved. No need to cry." I just had a tinge of sadness hit my heart in the parking lot. I would blame it on the crappy weather but sometimes it was rainy on my birthday back in California.

It was just weird to be holding my own birthday cake. Birthday cakes are available in bakeries across the US all the time. But it isn't until you need one do you really see them. Every other day the cakes remain in your periphery. Think about it. Even if it's not your birthday you can buy a birthday cake. Then consume said cake in front of the television with your cat. It doesn't even have to be your birthday. The birthday police aren't going to stop you at the door and take your cake away. Birthdays are special and birthday cakes are special and they both become exponentially less special when you are doing all the work yourself.

David's birthday was about a week after mine. We didn't plan anything but he bought himself a new Zune and it when arrived in the mail there wasn't the least bit of sadness in his heart. There was bit of anger in mine; I really wish he would just buy an iPod.