I Don't Like Children9:32:00 PM
Okay, it's not necessarily that I don't like them — I think I'm mostly just scared of them. I like to blame this on the fact that I am the youngest child. I also did very little babysitting when I was a Mia Maid (I don't know why I missed that boat?). I think I've also convinced myself that all children hate me and therefore I don't like them. Also I don't think anyone is a fan of wiping people's butts.
Being an unmarried 20-something in Happy Valley, Utah has its ups and downs. Every girl and their dog here is baby hungry, and I honestly just can't relate. My friend Megan has a three month old, and when I was visiting her tonight, Declan spit up while I was holding him and my immediate reaction was to scream. I'm not joking. I screamed and Megan and her husband and my boyfriend all laughed at me and I was sorta mortified. I know that I don't fit into that wannabe-mom stereotype of girls my age, but I do want to be a mom.
When I was in high school and my self-esteem was extra bad, I used to write down compliments that people gave me. I think about three-quarters of what I wrote down were my friends telling me that I would be a good mom. I want to be a mom. Really badly, actually. I'm just scared that I won't be a good one. I'm scared my own children will hate me, because people tell me that supposedly my own children will like me. I'm scared I won't love them unless I get to adopt cute children as my own.
I guess I'm just embarrassed. I know I'm supposed to like children — not from a feminist standpoint, because I don't have to have children if I don't want to — but as a Mormon. There's a lot of pressure to have a happy, well-dressed family, and y'all know I'm just trying to be a Mommy Blogger anyways. I really want to like children, but when Megan told me that she sits at home most days and watches Netflix trying not to make Declan cry, my immediate response was that I, too, sit at home most days watching Netflix, but I'm trying not to make myself cry. Maybe I'm just an immature baby myself and that's my problem. Maybe I haven't met a man yet that I'd be willing to let him put me through nine months of growing an alien (basically) inside of me. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm just perfectly content with my cat-son. Maybe things will change. Maybe they won't. Maybe it's Maybelline.