2007-08-23 - 6:05 p.m.

I typed this in a word document months and months ago, and couldn’t remember a few things I’d thought about, so I saved it and left it for later. Well, I can’t think of anything new, so here it is, a few months after it was written:

Soooo I've been thinking about kids a lot recently... and all the stupid expectations that I have about it. I thought I'd type it up just so I can have something to laugh about twenty years down the road. Some are more realistic than others.
The desperate hopes, the ones I don’t really expect and I’m kind of terrified that I won’t have, are in red. See my mothering insecurities!

A List of Silly Expectations (for my kids)

For All:
I will meet her before her fourteenth birthday.
He will never seriously assault me.
Love will be enough.
I will know enough about race relations to handle all the fiddly bits with not-white kids.
I will never scream at or properly hit him, ever.
Problems caused in my marriage will be minimal and very short-lived.
I’ll be prepared beforehand, and often I’ll realise how wrong I was years later, but his challenges to my thoughts will never be contemptuous towards me.
She will love me.
I’ll make enough time.
When he talks about me in therapy, he’ll say “yeah, I wish she understood” but never “she has no idea of boundaries!” or “I think I can trace this eating disorder/this fear of men/this obsession with germs/this depression/andonandon… directly to the mistakes she’s made” or “I hate her.”
Even if love does not come in a sudden overwhelming flow, and it has to be developed over time, it WILL come easily.

And just for biological kids:
She will have 42 chromosomes.
He will be born after 30 weeks gestation, no less.
She will have black hair, or possibly very dark reddishy-brown, and lots of it.
She will need glasses, but not until she is older than five.
They will come in ones or twos, never more.
I’ll be able to do enough to eliminate their ecological footprint.