The Bliss of Ignorance

29 Weeks

Five Reasons I Feel Prepared to Be a Mom

1. A Needy Little Dog Covered in Poop. Standing at the kitchen sink, I look up and rap loudly on the window. Stewart, our 11 pound Italian Greyhound, flinches, glances around the backyard nervously, then goes right back to his favorite outdoor activity: rolling around in exotic feces. I read somewhere that small animals have this instinct as a measure of protection from larger prey. Mother Nature: smart. What I have a really hard time understanding is that this little mammal, who is capable of learning a variety of intelligent behavior that Greg and I have personally taught him, NEVER EVER EVER learns that a) he's a house pet and has no mortal enemies and b) if he rolls around in deer s*%t, I will fiercely yell, scream to the point of seizure, hold him down, spray him with a hose, spank him, gruffly throw him in a bathtub, and scrub him fragrantly. One of the perks of dog ownership in the country—watching your man's-best-friend gallop throughout a plain of grass. One of the irks—watching your little guy go temporarily blind by pushing his head into a cow paddy.

2. Babysitting A Two Year Old Diva. I am eleven years older than my only sibling, Dallas's own infamous Drag Queen, Onya Stereo. The same week I got my first kiss, I played tug-of-war with my tiny kin using one of my white pumps. He won. When he was left in my charge, I would often chase him around the house to remove my mother's lipstick from his quick hands, distract him by letting him roughly brush or style my long hair, and get him to bed by promising to sing a George Michael hit until he fell asleep. He once had to be escorted out of my high school theatrical debut for repeatedly yelling out my name and another time, he put my entire Barbie collection in the oven so they could 'go to sleep'. They did. My parents would bring him to watch me cheerlead at basketball games. Sometimes he joined in. They nick-named him the Tasmanian Devil and started making him wear a leash wherever we went. One Saturday afternoon, I invited the coolest girl in school over to our house. My pubescent nightmare clomped into my room wearing high heels, makeup, and one of my old tutus made of shear, pink fabric. He wasn't wearing any underwear. Today, my brother is thirty and if he set me on fire I would still love him. 

3. The Harem. I'm a woman. I often feel like an 80 year old, homosexual man trapped in a woman's body, but I couldn't prove my femininity any more clearly than my current state. Because of my femaleness, I have the honor of being in the Lady Club. I am lucky enough to have grandmothers, mothers, good friends who are mothers, good friends who are women who have mothers, and I happen to work in an office full of women, many of them mothers who also know lots of women and mothers. I observe, listen, and take in all I can on the subject of mothering. Plus, I'm not afraid to ask for advice or help. I trust the sisterhood. If six months from now I am found babbling to myself through the produce section of our local grocery store without pants, I am confident one of the female persuasion will knowingly take my hand and calmly help me find my way back home.

4. Theatre. If you know anything about theatre, you know that it is a pure collaborative art form that juggles many egos, personalities, ideas, cultures, processes, practices, commitments, and vulnerabilities all in the name of one all-consuming, passionate goal. You also know it has another name: Drama. I have had a fair share of drama in my life and the show always went on. Often with people I love and trust. If I can endure years of death-inducing embarrassments while standing alone, center stage in front of a live audience, I can endure the heartbreak of my teenage son not wanting to be seen with me. Right? Ouch. 

5. Marriage. Yep.

I realize that being an actual mother will be like nothing I've ever known. I can only hope some of my life experiences will be of some use. Then again, Greg just proofread my writing before I posted this and said, "It's good. I put in a few commas... I'm not really sure what those things have to do with your theme." 

Oh.

Well. I assured him I know enough not to use the backyard hose on the boy if he's covered in poop. At least not in winter.