The holidays are over. I had a nice visit with my sister, almost ruined Christmas with my shitty mood and had a stupid fight with Andrew after my family left. Christmas simply doesn’t agree with me, and the sooner I let go of the notion that I should like Christmas, the sooner I’ll probably actually enjoy it because I’m not trying to turn it into more than just another day. What ruins it for me is this stupid expectation that it has to be something special. Next year I just hope to see it as a nice chance to hang out with my family, nothing more, nothing less.
The new quarter has begun and I’m already overwhelmed. I have cut back my hours at work, but I still feel I’m stretched a little thin. It might have something to do with being in class for three hours, four nights a week.
You’d think that what I’m about to say would be the last thing that would ever come to mind with all the work and school related stuff going on. But something happened in a moment of drunkenness last weekend that I can’t shake. It was the realization that I might be wrong about a core belief about myself.
I have pretty much always thought I didn’t want kids, and Andrew had felt the same, so without reservations, he scheduled an appointment for a vasectomy on the 11th. But last week, while getting drunk with some friends, something changed. I thought of how permanent it could be, how much I’ve changed in the last seven years and what might happen in the next seven, and I realized that I have no idea how I’ll feel about kids then. I kept having this premonition that around 35 I was going to be really bummed that we eliminated the possibility of making a little us.
We talked and I realized that I’m not ready to decide I don’t want kids. It was so weird to let go of something I thought I was so sure of, but as much as we know what a sacrifice kids are, in the sense of a loss of freedom to just get in the car and drive who knows where, or spend our money on whatever we feel like, I also feel like…I dunno. I like us so much that a kid made out of us would be the coolest person ever. That kid would be the coolest, smartest, funniest, most adorable person ever, and that realization kind of gave me a sharp kick in the self-perception.
I don’t want to meet that kid right now. At all. We don’t have the time, patience, money, or even really the desire for him. Right now I am happy being a two-person us, and I think I will be for a long time, maybe forever, just as I’ve always thought. All I’m saying is that I might be really sad in a few years that we literally severed our chances to meet that kid simply because we had a static idea of who we are. Who I was at 20 is almost a different species from 27-year old me. Who knows what another seven years will do.