Babies and stuff

Now that moving is over, hopefully my life can get back to normal a bit. I still feel exhausted, but I think that’s just going to be a perpetual thing for awhile. The new place is wonderful, though--and right around the corner from my after school kids, which is where I am now.

I love being in control of my own blog, because, on days like today when the twins drove me up a wall and I’m not looking forward to Jacob and Caroline getting home from school, I can just talk about something else. There are at least two posts coming soon, one about diapers and one about Sittercity, the website where I met my families; at the moment, though, I don’t feel like being actually responsible, so I won’t write those.

An email from a friend the other day ended, “Glad things are going well for you. How’s V’s job? How far in the future are baby plans? Are you going to use a sperm donor or what?” I had to laugh; among my friends, my baby fixation is so well known that it’s not odd to end an email with a question like that. To answer the question, though, is a different matter. I love the idea of known, as long as the legal bases are covered. I want someone or someones to play the uncle role, just as I want many aunts (even if that’s not the actual term used). They say it takes a village to raise a baby, and I’m in the business of village creating at the moment. Neither V nor I can count on our families, necessarily, so I want our baby/babies to have as huge a family as possible.

I try not to fixate on the part of me that feels cruelly treated. I work for two wonderful families, happy marriages (by all appearances), healthy, cared for kids. One family knows about V and I, and has no issue. The other one doesn’t officially, but might as well. But I spend my days with kids who just...happened. No tracking ovulation, no searching through sperm banks, no lawyers. Well, that isn’t true: the twins were actually conceived in vitro, so they didn’t exactly just happen. But you get the point.

For awhile, my brain translated the fact that it wasn’t perfectly “natural” into meaning this relationship was never supposed to have kids. But I can’t buy it. I just can’t. I tried, but there are too many factors negating that argument. And when it comes down to it, I can’t accept that a child raised by a female and a male is going to be “better” automatically than one raised by one female, one male, two females, three males, or whatever combination is going to love and teach that child.

Which is exactly what we’re going to do, someday.