Last October, I spent a wonderful morning with my doctor, during which he performed a tubal ligation on me.
You know how kids are.
“That’s right Rob,” he said it again: “You’re a dad now. Everything changes when you have kids.”
Do they know I’m their friend and not just their cool mom?
I will never be the woman who asks you about children. I will never ask you if you want them.
It’s the funny, unexpected twist of parenting. You kids come into our lives. Helpless. Dependent. And along with that we are given a feeling of value and importance because we are needed.
Sometimes, I find myself staring at my boys thinking, “I wonder what they were like when they were younger?”
And when he’s 15, he’ll want some cash to go to a movie with that cute little brunette girl from his English class who writes poems but won’t show them to anyone but him. You’ll balk because the girl’s mother “always skimped on snacks for the kids’ soccer games” five years earlier.
All because I had a baby.
“I became a father when I was 19. The kid ruined my professional life. I am now 25, stuck in a dead end job, live in a small apartment with her mother, who is now my wife.”