I didn't do much journaling much in the 90's. I was too busy trying to get my Diane Keaton on. Fortunately for me, God watches over fools and babies...back then I was both. Considering some of my escapades, I should be thankful there is no written evidence of my behavior. But truth be told, I wouldn't change any of it.
I graduated from college in four years; 1990. I got a job right out of college. I was living on my own, and you couldn't tell me anything. I was making a whopping $20,000 a year! I was hot! I bought a car worth almost twice my annual salary, I had a my own apartment and a college degree. Most of my friends were still in school, or out of school trying to figure things out. The next thing I did after securing my place as a debtholder, was to get a tattoo. Mind you, the early 90's was about grunge and house music. Bubble tape and string cheese. Overalls and spiral perms. Tattoos were not yet mainstream. A car, tattoos, money, free will? All I needed was a dog and a motorcycle, and that was it for me.
Most Sundays, my friend would come over for breakfast. We would recap the previous night's events and/or victims in full detail. One particular day, she glanced at the paper and noticed the Classifieds...the dating section. (Do they still have this in newspapers?) I guess that was today's version of online dating. We saw it as another opportunity to recruit more volunteers. Game FN on. The first person I contacted from the classifieds is still a good friend to this day. The rest? Well, those may have to be future postings. Dirty Socks, Roaches and Me, and the Al the Tiniest Pianist sound like good blog titles, yes?
Anyhoo, today's post is really not about any of that.
Sixteen years ago I somehow, unbelieveably (even to this day) got pregnant. I SO did not want kids. I told everyone this. A dog and a bike. That's it. No kids. That's my plan. I had never even changed a diaper at that point in my life. I was 24 and having fun. I was thinking about moving to Atlanta (with practically every other person I knew). I didn't consider myself the white-house-with-a-picket-fence-type of girl. I was not the type to do something like wind up unmarried and with child. It took half an hour to convince my mother I wasn't joking when I told her.
I was very disconnected from the thought of being pregnant. I just couldn't get my head wrapped around the idea that I was going to be a parent. To me, it was like if a man said he was pregnant ( mind you this is 1993, not 2008), After she was born, I asked the nurse if I could get some food because I was hungry. I had been in labor for 2 days and couldn't eat. She asked me if I wanted to hold my baby. I said sure, but how long on the food? Honestly, it took about 2 years before I finally came to terms with being a mother. Two years. I wasn't a bad mother initially, I just couldn't figure out what this baby was doing here. I didn't want a roommate, I wanted a dog! I went to the Cleveland Indians game at the then-new Jacobs Field for her second birthday; we won over the Seattle Mariners, 4 to 1. Why waste money throwing a big party for a baby? She wasn't going to remember it.
What I didn't know then was that being her mother was going to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing my daughter and being able to watch her grow into a beautiful, funny, intelligent young lady who doesn't have a clue how amazing and messy she is, has been my honor. She was an easy baby. Slept all night. Ate everything. Even potty training was easy. She was a good baby. When she was two she told me that before she was bored (her word), she looked down from heaven and said to the angel she wanted me for her mother.
After I mopped up the snot and tears, I couldn't help but think this kid is crazy! But I'm so glad she did pick me. She gave me love and a purpose that was better and greater than anything I could have wanted or ever hoped for.
On this sixteenth birthday, I couldn't be prouder or happier to be chosen as her mom!
