At 34, I naturally think about what I will do when I hang up my skates and walk away from full contact racing and mouthguards.

Lately, I've thought about having a kid.

And then today, I've thought about the reality of having a kid.

Fact: Kids barf unexpectedly. I can hardly clean up one of Brian Wilson's innocuous kitty hairballs without having to suppress my own gag reflex. I can watch barfing but I can hear it or smell it because I invariably get sick myself. Ask my sister about the one time she was barfing from drinking too much and I was of NO help because I was thisclose to having to rip out of the hotel room and run to the lobby bathroom to vomit.
Or the time that I was lifeguarding and a kid barfed right in front of me and I ran out the back door of the pool and barfed in the dumpster.
I can't smell puke without puking.

FACT: Less so but still importantly, all bodily functions skeeve me out. Name one. I can't talk about it. I, to this day, struggle with announcing to my friends, "Hold on, I have to pee." When talk turns to pre-bout rituals regarding bodily functions, I have to go deep in my head and tune out or remove myself from the conversation. Only with CDilla can I handle bodily function discussion and that's because we lived together for a thousand years.

FACT: I roll my eyes a lot. It's almost meditative for me at this point. Babies don't care how hard you roll your eyes. In fact, if I were to stand over my screaming baby and inhale deeply on the upswing of the roll sighing deeply with as I forcibly return my eyeballs to their natural position, I have a feeling that my baby wouldn't get it that I am irritated with the screaming situation.

Also, telling a baby that, "Ohmigod, this is SO STUPID! Stop it, already!" wouldn't effectuate the change toward more positive exchange that I would be seeking from my baby.

FACT: My baby would not be content with bringing me a ball to toss, returning it, and expecting me to toss it again while I watch TV blankly and only half-way paying attention.

FACT: The nine billion pounds of crap that I carry around would easily be tripled by the additional crap a baby requires you to carry around. At any given time, I have in my bag (lovingly referred to the Mighty Jen as my luggage), I have some tea, deodorant, iPod, phone, checkbook, four lip glosses, candy, inhaler, a couple of cds, and sometimes a tote bag in case I meet a water bottle that won't fit in my purse. I curse my way out of my house every time I leave because of all the junk I feel like I can't leave at home. People who have had babies, imagine carrying around enough crap that you could be kidnapped and still look pretty a week later along with all the baby stuff. I'd do just as well to get a shopping cart and just use that for all my shit.

FACT: I am unpredictable. Sometimes there's dinner. Sometimes I get up at the same time every day for a week. Sometimes I keep things picked up around the house. By no means do I do any of these things consistently and babies... they like consistency.

So, parenthood... I think about it a lot and I think about it as being something maybe that wouldn't be very natural on me.

And yet, I don't want to eliminate the possibility of parenthood because, if a baby was left on my doorstep and it was most certainly mine, like right now, no questions, no preparation, no metaphor; if a baby magically appeared as a circumstance of my life, I am unconvinced that I would handle the situation with aplomb.

But that's not how babies arrive. There's time to think and plan and make commitments to yourself and your lifestyle.

And, I dunno, maybe it wouldn't be so antithetical as it seems right now.

Maybe parenthood would fit on me.
I don't know.

arizonasarah at 3:03 p.m.

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