Cutie Girl: “Mom, can we go over that girls’ house?”
FB Friend: “What girl?”
Cutie Girl: “You know, that girl, my friend with the dog and the cats . . . she said I can come over anytime.”
FB Friend: “Well, I’m sure we’ll have to see if it’s okay with her mom”– Posted on my Face.book Wall
Two Saturdays ago, we celebrated my niece’s baptism with a party afterwards at my in-laws house. At that party was one of my Hubby’s family friends and her 5 year old daughter. This little girl is so precocious; so bright that you can’t help but be infected by her laughter, enthralled in conversation with her.
This past weekend, her mom posted the above conversation on my Facebook wall. And I can’t tell you how big my heart swelled when I read it. Wow, I thought. I must have made some sort of impression on Cutie Girl. That she would remember such a conversation that even I couldn’t remember. (But then again, when don’t little kids remember more details than adults?)
And as I mentioned in previous posts, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my cousins. First, with my older cousin’s wedding. And more recently, with my youngest cousin’s cotillion. As family usually does when gathering together in such occassions, we began to reminisce on our youth; on growing up in our family. Two of my cousins, sisters about 6 and 8 years younger than I am, brought up how much they used to love staying at our house. They remembered all the times we’d play in our basement; me pulling them down the stairs in sleeping bags and all around the basement while pretending that they were on a roller coaster. They remember how I used to get them to do silly dance routines with me when I was 13 or 14 to great 80’s songs like Wha.m’s “Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)” and Rob Bas.e’s “It Takes Two.” And they remembered how, when I was in high school, I would teach them to sing Depec.he Mo.de songs in perfect harmony. The one comment that stuck with me was when one of them said to me, “You were my favorite cousin when I was a kid. You were always so much fun.”
On the drive home from our trip this past weekend, I couldn’t help but put these two separate events together. And think, once again, how much I love kids … how much I’ve always loved kids. And, while I don’t mean to sound arrogant or proud, how good I am with them. How natural it was for me to be with them.
And at that moment, I also couldn’t help but think … how f*cking ironic that I can’t have any of my own; at least “naturally.”
As I told Hubby these thoughts, I also told him that the pain … it doesn’t hurt as much any more. This feeling of failure; of emptiness. This indescribable sadness. It’s not as deep.
But every once in awhile … at moments like that, I can’t help but spill a bit of tears.
i used to feel the same way. i love kids too. my neighbor’s kiddo calls me “christina, the nice lady.” it must be hard! the good news is that you will be a mom and we ahve so much evidence that when you become a mom, you’ll be good at it. and dear g-d i hope it is soon.
i need to read your PWP posts. i just haven’t had time. yet.
Oh, yeah. That’s so me. As much as I loathe obnoxious groups of kids (god save me from ever working in a daycare again…), one on one, I’m a kid magnet. H, too. They just love me. It’s probably because I have a complete loathing of authority and thus, I speak to kids like I would want to be spoken to. But there’s something else, too. H’s colleague (Hot Colleague) has a young son who is enamored with me. And it breaks my heart, ‘cos he and his wife see me playing with junior and always ask me when H and I are going to have one. And I don’t know how to answer them. Sigh.
Yeah. I just know exactly what you mean.
Al and I babysat for my friends kids last night and I am so with you. I was always the kid person. I was a nanny every summer and I’m the one who can magically make the kids pass out at bedtime (my friend got home last night at 10 and couldn’t believe his child was asleep. I was like, I thought her bedtime was 8:30 and she’s been asleep since then – and he was like – yeah, that’s her bedtime but we can never get her to fall asleep then!) Maybe I need to blog about this too…
Yeah. It’s a cruel irony.
I identify as well. I noticed though that while the pain doesn’t come to the surface as often for me, it’s a deeper, older, more abiding pain now. It’s easier to deal with, but also harder to shake.