march 19

survival of the fittest

I've had some doozie dreams lately. Most of them, I only remember the central point, or what I presume the central point of the dream was. Most of them, I can't interpret and had to have A* do it for me.

The first one, I'll just get out of the way because I don't remember the details and I have not clue what it means: I dreamed that I went to some cafe, although it was more like a 50s-style hamburger joint, that had recently been renamed "Children of Diaryland" and all these Diarylanders were hanging out. I have no clue.

The other dream is more significant: I am living at my mother's house, although I don't seem to be a kid again, I'm me at my present age. My mother and father are still married and living there. My mother has short hair (which she's never had) and seems to be emotionally connected to my father (which she never was, sadly). I am supposed to move to England the next day. My plane leaves at 6 AM. It is about 9 PM. I haven't packed. I'm panicked. This all seems too soon. I'm not ready. My mother just looks at me with a sympathetic smile and I know I'm on my own. I start to get my stuff together then I realize that I don't have a passport. There's nothing I can do about it now. I'll miss my plane. I'm not going.

A*'s interpretation: This is a baby anxiety dream. My mother resembles me more than herself (the hair) which means I'm thinking of myself as a mother. I'm examining the emotional connection between husband and wife. I'm embarking on a big journey, I know I'm all on my own and I don't feel ready.

A* thought this was all funny until I pointed out to him that this dream seemed to be saying I'm not ready. Then he got upset. All weekend he had been in this playful, funny mood. I had attributed it to the fact that I'd been making a huge effort to be home more and to spend time with him. He told me that it was actually because I was finally ready to talk about having kids.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. Actually, I do, but I don't know if it's fair. I'm irritated. I used to feel like I was just a second source of income financing A* every whim--buying a house (which I wasn't that ready to do, although I don't regret it now), starting this business (which I now run, but whether or not that's a good thing is a whole other discussion), blah blah. The point is, I felt like I was more his roommate than his wife. I'm mostly over that, but now I'm afraid that I will now move from roommate to babymaker.

And this concern is in addition to the whole "Can we afford a kid?" question, and realizing that I will have to get my ass out of bed whenever that baby starts crying, not when I feel good and ready, which is what I do now. And I'll have to schedule my day around puking and peeing 30 times a day in the beginning, then move on to working around breastfeeding and diaper changes and mountains of laundry.

Just why is it that people have kids anyway?

This is what I was saying when I wrote in that last entry that if there wasn't an obvious obstacle in my way, I'd invent one. Or maybe this is my real concerns coming into focus. I keep thinking about how my life is nothing close to what I had planned for myself. It's not horrible, but I haven't done 99% of the things I've wanted to do since I met A*, nine years ago. I haven't traveled, which I desperately regret. I never really write anymore, except for what's here. I'm not politically active. I never see movies anymore. These are all the things that people say you can never do when you have a kid. So if I can't do them now, just what will my life be like with a baby?

But then. Then there's this little laughing grandmother-like voice in my head that tells me that I know damn well that this child will be the thing that will bring it all into focus and I need this child more than I realize. That this will be the catalyst for forcing me to quit whining and just do it.

Then again. There's this other voice, a liberal touchy-feely do-gooder voice that says that I can't bring a child into the world and expect it to solve all my problems. That's a classic recipe for raising a screwed up kid.

Ay-ay-ay. I'm thinking that the answer lies somewhere in between. That I need to do a little more focusing before we do this, just so I can prove to myself that I'm not as big a mess as I think I am. Or, at least, that I can clean up my messes on my own.

Yeah. So. How long have I been saying this?

- march 19