I admit that I get the Baby Urge maybe three (sometimes four) times a year but I never feel a need to explore the idea or raise the question with Chris because as soon as it sets in I start to remember all the reasons why I don’t have children and a “what the hell are you thinking?!” screams into my head, replacing the emotional urge for a child with a very real craving for something sweet, and VOILA! my thoughts are back to normal.
Well it happened yesterday so I thought blogging the experience would be a great way to share how my clock ticks… mom, this is especially for you:
A favorite Christmas tradition was riding the Pink Pig at Rich's Downtown Atlanta
First a special memory is triggered (like riding the Pink Pig) and before I can stop the thought, something like “How wonderful would it be to dress my little girls in Christmas outfits and take them to ride the Pink Pig the way my sisters and I did more then 30 years ago!” slips into my head. Then I sigh and think, “And after I tell my girls all about riding the original Pink Pig when I was a little girl, we’ll pose for the official Santa photo and then we’ll go to brunch with their aunts so they can show off their manners and share their precious little Christmas wishes with the family elders” (even when I daydream I razz my sisters about getting old). And finally the most silly reason for wanting a baby creeps in, “Chris will love seeing my motherhood in action during the holidays!”…cue a tingle in the uterus.
But then I look around and see all of the chaos required for making these magical memories…
I see long lines extending across the parking lot, forcing small children and large SUVs to compete for what little space is left. I think about standing in the cold for hours and hours, listening to fussy kids who no longer care about riding the Pink Pig and then hearing their exhausted mothers beg for patience while silently cussing the fathers for skipping out on another holiday activity.
And it immediately becomes clear that my memories in no way match those of my mother’s and I owe the poor woman yet another expression of gratitude for not leaving us in the woods to be raised by wolves, a fate we truly deserved after misbehaving on The Pink Pig and saying horrible things to our own aunts during Christmas brunch…year after year after year.
And as quickly as the urge for a baby arrives it is replaced with more rewarding desires…
Which in this case happened to be right next to The Pink Pig ticket booth. And because there wasn’t a mother in the mall brave enough to bring her little beastie into this magnificent truffle shop, eating expensive chocolate in peaceful silence is now my newest, most wonderful, holiday tradition!
Spice (and her happy uterus)