Sunshine and Lollipops

The other day my mom told me my blog wasn’t funny anymore.

Thanks mom.

It got me thinking.

Sometimes I will take a few minutes to read some of my past posts. Although I think this blog genuinely reflects my tone as a writer, I sometimes feel like it doesn’t express who I am as a person. Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all “True Life: I’m Addicted to Crack” on you. I’m still a teacher, who loves to decorate my house, hang out with friends and throw birthday parties for my dog, but trust me—it’s not all sunshine and lollipops.

It suddenly occurred to me that my readers may be interested in a post that shows a different side to me.

So here it is. No pictures. Just words.

While I can safely say I do not spend my days agonizing over ways to make it though my first year of marriage (they say it’s the hardest) there IS something I worry about, regularly—having a family.

As you all know, I have been married 164 glorious days. What? You weren’t counting? Call me overconfident, but I have always had a strong sense that I would make a great wife and mother. I’m not sure if it’s my laundry obsession, (twice a week, every week) my thoughtful nature, (napkin notes in every lunch) or my ability to make someone feel like they are the most important person in the world. Although I am well versed in the harsh realities of grim marital statistics, I am optimistic about my life with DP and think he will make the perfect dad.

When I was little, my cousin and I would play “house,” which oddly enough, never involved us being in one. We would sit outside on my grandmom’s porch and pretend we were out to lunch at some fancy café catching up each other’s fabulous lives. She would complain about her busy life as a doctor and I would always have to cut our lunch short because I had 5 kids (Katie, Christopher, Maryanne, Chelsea and Anthony) and my husband would want me to come home. Well, my cousin isn’t a doctor, but she IS a dental assistant which is pretty close. Okay, it’s not close at all. I, myself, am hoping for a little more accuracy, minus naming my one of my children Maryanne.

Lately, as I continue to explore the blog world, I have stumbled across many women writing about the complications of getting pregnant. As not to cause confusion, DP and I are NOT currently trying to have a baby. By the way, until recently, I thought when people said they were “trying to have a baby,” that meant that they were doing it all day, every day.

It would be like “Yeah, me and so-and-so are trying to have a baby.”

“Wow, thanks for letting me know what you’ll be up to after work. Ewe.”

Thanks to various bloggers (and reality television star/E-News correspondent Giuliana Rancic) I now know “trying” can involve a lot more than just… well… you know.

I know there are a lot of new, fancy, medical procedures out there for women who are having trouble, as well as options such as adoption but I really can’t help but feel like if I can’t get pregnant, I will be beyond devastated.

I’m not sure why I worry about this so frequently. I mean, like I said earlier, we are not ready to take on parenthood just yet. I often wonder if this is a common fear for newly-married women or if I’m just crazy. We are trying to be responsible parents even before we are actual parents by saving up some cash, securing our careers and taking another trip to Mexico. Okay, maybe just one picture!