Today the blogosphere seems filled with posts about mommy-time and the loss of self. The simple truth in my life was that, once I had children, I had neither self nor time. This lack threw me into the pit of post-partum depression three times, each one worse than the last. I was unprepared. I began to recover the day they were housebroken.
I should state for the record that I never consciously wanted children, not as some do who cannot envision a life without having at least one. In fact, had I not become pregnant, I probably would have gotten a divorce. I was on a career track, and nothing was going to derail me. Yeah.
Do not misunderstand me, I love MY kids. It’s just that my world would not have been turned upside down if I’d been infertile. I just don’t care much for “children”. The girls and I talk a lot about how their children will get cool postcards and interesting presents from me, but I’m an unlikely candidate for “Granny of the Year”.
Which brings up the question: what name do you want your grandkids to use for you? Nana, gran, granny, grandma, grandmother, maw maw. . . I’m kind of leaning toward Your Awesomeness. How’s that??