Why Bossy Became A Parent

Quitter had a journey.  She had tough conversations… 

She had paperwork.  She had interviewing.  She had research…

I had one post-Winnipeg, Welcome Home sack roll and voila (…my bond with Winnipeg now so deep.  So deep).

The reality is that looking back, my husband and I never had the big conversation about becoming parents.  We knew we wanted to.  We knew we liked kids.  I know my husband spent a lot of time talking about Christmas shopping.  But why we thought deep down we should bring more people into the world and why WE were fit for the job – nope.  Notta sound.

The only deep conversation I know I had within myself, but not out loud, was the environmental angle.  Lots of people here.  Need 3 more be invited? (3 children was always the goal).

But what if we had?  What if we talked about it all?  The sleep deprivation?  The levels of worry you never new existed?  How statistically it will cost you 57 katrillion dollars to raise one of these slimy, mouth eaters (yes…that was the number)?  How you’ll spend countless hours trying to relocate your abs?  How you’ll rapidly grow grey in your beard but your wife will just keep insisting you need to moisturize?  How you’ll cry on cue?  But also – laugh unexpectedly.

Like one of the first times ice skating and your son looks at you with pure joy, barely moving an inch a movement and declares “I’m as fast as a duck!” And you don’t even question the logic of duck speed – you just cry with joy.

I think part of the hormonal juices that concoct in our sexually driven brains are singing a Bobby McFarlane song.  No lunatic on the planet would ever reproduce if they knew what lay ahead.  If they had to experience it with virtual head probes that shock your system into experiencing the clusterfuck you’re about to ram your life into, I’m pretty sure population growth would have stopped at 3.  But the juices remind you: Don’t worry.

So why did I have kids?  My honest answer?  Fuck, I don’t know.

But does that mean I long for a different life now?  That I’m constantly reading the fine print for the refund policy?

No.  Cuz I know that reality would have lacked record breaking ducks.

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2 thoughts on “Why Bossy Became A Parent

  1. I really hope your child was referring to an “Anaheim Mighty Duck” because a quick Google search reveals ZERO information regarding the skating speed of an actual duck. I’m not even sure they make skates for webbed feet.


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