It’s not what I expected
I was late, standing in line during my lunch hour to return a shirt The Kid spent about a half-second glancing at before making the most horribly disgusted look I’d ever see on his face, when the 6-year-old in front of me starting acting up.
“Please, Mommy. Please!” she cried as she waved a pink-boxed doll in her mother’s direction.
“Not today.”
“I WANT IT!” she screamed, and then took the box and smashed it into her mom’s leg.
Mom looked pretty horrified.
Of course, I can remember when Trent pulled similar antics on me. What parent — well, modern-day parent — hasn’t experienced that?
But that little scenario never crossed my mind when I was imagining what having a baby would be like. I thought about carefree days at the beach making sandcastles; baking chocolate chip cookies together; biking and hiking and exploring the wonders
of nature. I thought about the fun times. 
I never once imagined having a kid would involve meltdowns in the checkout line at
Target or sleepless nights holding a croupy
child in a steamy-hot bathroom or moments of sheer panic when he disappeared at the park
or how many times Rob and I were exhausted, pissed off, fought or were resentful over something related to The Kid.
And if I saw that happening to others, I thought, “It will be different for me.”
Yeah, right!
“Children may provide unrivaled moments
of joy. But they also provide unrivaled moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak,” writes Jennifer Senior in “All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting.” “Loving one’s children and loving the act of parenting are not the same thing.”
But, isn’t that the same for just about
everything?
When I met Rob, it was magical — we laughed,
we talked, we dreamed, we had great sex, we played so well together. “Oh, so that’s what we look like as a couple,” I thought.
Then we got married.
And a new couple emerged. It’s not what I expected. Resentment, frustration, anger, obliviousness — where did these things come from?
Then we had Trent. Again, a new couple, emerged, and a new me — me as Mom.
It’s not what I expected.
Then I got divorced.
During the confusing, painful months before and after our marriage busted up, I didn’t know what to expect — and that, oddly enough, made me open to the possibilities of what was, not what I thought it would be.
I had no expectations of what my future would be like; I had no friggin’ idea. It wasn’t part of the plan — you know, fall in love, get married, have kids, white-picket fenced house … I had never been a 40-something divorced mom of a kid in suburbia. And so I never felt like something was wrong (well, despite my grieving over my marriage, which was fast becoming my past) or right. There was no road map to follow, no blueprint of what being a 40-something divorced mom of a kid in suburbia looked like.
Everyone talks about how having unrealistic expectations messes things up — dating, marriage, parenting — but it’s hard not to have any expectations. Still, the fewer we have, the happier we seem to be.
So, I realized you can take what Jennifer says about kids and replace it with whatever you’re struggling with and it still makes sense:
- “Dating may provide moments of joy, but it also can provide moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak …”
- “Marriage may provide moments of joy, but it also can provide moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak …”
- “College may provide moments of joy, but it also can provide moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak …”
- “Work may provide moments of joy, but it also can provide moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak …”
Because we think we know what they “should” look like, and then we get disappointed when it differs from our expectations.
I had no expectations of divorced life, and, you know, it has moments of joy, frustration, anxiety, heartbreak. But, I am happier than I ever could have imagined. What do I make of that?
- What have you ever gotten yourself into that you think, “Hmm, it’s not what I expected …”?
- Have you ever gone into something with no expectations, and been happily surprised?
photo © Hotshoot – Fotolia.com
M is for mother and masturbation
As my dog Roxy and I took a Mother’s Day hike together — her “gift” to me, I suppose — I chucked to myself that we moms get one day out of the year to ourselves while the big M — masturbation — gets a whole month.
You have to wonder who decided that and why!
Not that I’m complaining.
In fact, I’m all for it (although the poor restaurants can’t cash in much: “Mom, I’d sure like to take you to brunch, but you’re going to have to stop what you’re doing in there long enough to eat …” Nor can Hallmark, but there’s always some creative company that will.)
Beside the fact that masturbation just feels so damn good (and guys, even if you’d rather we gals “use” you instead of our vibrators and fingers, trust me: you benefit big time by it because it helps us figure out what pleases us and what doesn’t. Want us to orgasm? Let us play with ourselves!), it might also mean there are less mothers celebrating Mother’s Day.
Given the latest news from Pew, that might be a
very good thing. 
Evidently, 47 percent of parents say having a baby “just happened.”
Not surprisingly, given the increase in single gals having babies, it’s mostly women who say that when explaining how they got knocked up the first time.
The Pill just marked its 50th year, and although it and other birth control methods aren’t foolproof
and accidents do happen — really, almost half of the pregnancies “just happened”?
I think not!
Because every time you have sex, you’re basically making a baby — unless you’re doing something to prevent it, like using condoms.
Whether you think like Ann Coulter (shudder), that single moms create “criminals, strippers, rapists
and murderers,” or not, I just can’t imagine that 47 percent of people aren’t giving the biggest decision of their live a little more thought.
I mean, do we end up driving a Lexus SUV instead of a VW Beetle because it “just happened”?
I know women who give more thought to buying a pair of jeans. Or their hair color.
I have to agree with author and Evergreen State College professor Stephanie Coontz that we can’t “(shoehorn) everyone back into marriages” because “very often kids do worse if their mother rushes into a marriage that may be unstable.”
You bet! Who needs more dysfunctional divorced parents and their troubled kids mulling around? Don’t we have enough, and I include my own somewhat troubled divorced family in that.
But, please convince me that people who view having a baby as something that “just happens” are ready to be parents. I would hope that any person, male or female, would be just a little more prepared than that. Actually, I’d hope they’d be a helluva lot more prepared than that!
So, gals, please start taking National Masturbation Month (a whole month!) to heart more than Mother’s Day; honestly, it’s just a Hallmark Day.
Yeah, you don’t get brunch and a handmade card, but you don’t get knocked up, either.
- What do you think about 47 percent of pregnancies “just happening”?
- How’s Masturbation Month going for you?
Photo © krasispektar – Fotolia.com
Celibacy is the new black
“I’ve decided to be like Lady Gaga,” Sara announced as we worked up a sweat on the treadmills the other day.
“Sara, don’t. There’s nothing about parading around half-naked in ridiculous outfits and even worse hair that could be flattering for a woman your age.”
“My age?! And you are how old?”
“OK, OK — our age.”
“Agreed. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” 
“Puh-lease don’t tell me you want to start singing …”
“Of course not! But, did you hear what she said the other day? Her Gaganess said she’s OK being celibate until she has the time to meet someone she wants to sleep with. Well, that’s me.”
“That is so not you!”
“That’s the new me.”
“You’re kidding me. Weren’t you just on Match the other day? What were you looking for — a handyman?”
“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m going to check out Bcelebate.”
I lost my footing and nearly flew off the treadmill. “Is that a …”
“Yes, a Web site for the abstinent-minded — like me.”
“Whatever.”
I know Sara well enough to know that those sorts of proclamations rarely last long; the last time she swore off chocolate she made it to, oh, 4 p.m.
But, there is a movement toward women being celibate — to which I say, are they crazy?
Unless they’re nuns, because, you know, that’s OK.
I’m not dissing celibacy for religious reasons, if that’s important to you. And, it’s OK if you’re trying to get your life together because you’re always falling for the bad boys or you’re newly divorced or something like that; you just can’t be emotionally healthy to enjoy sex at those times.
Even Lady Gaga’s celibacy makes some some sense: she prefers to get to know someone before she gets sexual, and she just doesn’t have time for that right now. “If you can’t get to know somebody,” she says, “you shouldn’t be having sex with them.”
You go, girl! Although I’d call that Celibate Lite, because I’m sure if someone worth going gaga over came along, she’d change her tune quickly.
But I wonder about wearing the celibacy badge as if you’re somewhat holier than those of us who say, yeah, I’m too busy to have a relationship right now, but I have a few, uh, needs. And my fingers are tired, and my batteries have run out. I just wanna get laid.
Those of us who see our sexuality as a natural expression of who and what we are. I mean, I’m all for National Masturbation Month — which May is, BTW — but I’m just celebrating in between the regular sex (and when Sean wants to watch, obviously).
It seems like a “thing” some women who aren’t getting any action have to declare as way to either justify why they aren’t getting any action or to deny their sexuality.
OK, there are lots of women (and maybe men, too) who can’t or don’t want to have sex just for the sake of sex. I respect that.
And there are plenty of times when we’re just not connecting with anyone so forget about dating, let alone a relationship and guaranteed sex. That’s just part of being single.
Then there are the people who lose interest in sex as they age. I can’t see doing that, however. Too bad the spinster is stigmatized, but then again, so is the slut.
We can still find ways to have intimacy and live sensually if not sexually (getting a massage — with a male masseuse — can fuel a gal’s fantasy or two).
But I just can’t see embracing celibacy as a “new way to be.”
Can you?
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