Before we lived together, CC and I used to text bad haikus back and forth. I would usually start it off while I was waiting for my bus at the freak show that is the Port Authority. I had the count backwards but he would let it slide. They were like this:
They mostly were about pigeons, because the pigeons that wander inside the Port Authority never leave and they’re all missing parts and get very aggressive trying to get your snacks. I was thinking about that the other day while he was making me food, so I wrote him one, sans pigeons. I like the ones with the pigeons better but the form was wrong, and this one has breakfast.
I’ve been sitting on this post for a while. Debating on whether I should even put it out there. It’s got some unflattering pictures (not referring to the baby) but the more difficult part to reconcile is the truth it contains. I don’t know if you’re ready for it, but I feel a tremendous sense of obligation to pass this on.
Here’s a picture of me looking amazed at a baby:
Little O!
This is a CUTE baby. We didn’t even have to lie to her parents about that; it’s true. I think she’s awesome. She has tater-tot feet and she wears mittens.
I was surprised that when CC and I got married, people began asking me when we were going to have kids.
Me: We have five kids. I think we’re good.
Them: No, I mean your own kids.
Yeah. Because I’m so on top of everything, so incredibly organized and overloaded with resources such as money, time, and patience, that I think what’s truly missing in our lives, with our five kids and two dogs, is an infant.
I’m going to tell you something about babies. Something that no one is talking about. It’s the Big Secret About Babies that isn’t discussed in polite company. I already told Little O’s parents, so they knew from way back. My sister, who will be giving birth any second now, knows this truth because it’s already happened to her twice.
We’re talking way beyond narcolepsy, drooling and poop. Lots of people go into the baby thing not knowing this part and they’re shocked when it happens to them. There’s a conspiracy of silence around parenthood that prevents most people from talking about it. The advantage of being a stepmom and jumping in right in the middle is that you don’t have built-in fairy tale fantasies about your babies. You’re faced with stark reality from the very first day. I’m objective. That’s why ima tell you this now.
The best you can hope for, and this is only if you are very, very lucky, is this:
CC is finally out of production. This means I get to see him more than six minutes a day. It also means that I don’t have to get up with the kids every morning. Both of these are Very Good Things.
This is our conversation the other day:
Me: I am so happy you are home.
CC: Me too.
Me: I’m serious, I nearly wept with joy when you got up this morning with the kids. But then I rolled over and went back to sleep.
CC: Yeah, I know.
Me: You have a lot of children. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not.
CC: I have just the right number of lives in my life. Five kids, you, two crazy dogs. I don’t need any cats or goldfish. I don’t need anything else.
Me: Except maybe a turtle. That would be pretty cool.
CC: A turtle?
Me: Yeah, wouldn’t it? Especially if it was one of those ones with a skateboard?
CC: What the hell are you talking about?
Me: You know, like when they lose a leg and so you strap them to a skateboard so they can still get around?
CC: I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.
Me: It totally does! I saw a picture on the internet! It’s just like that dog that used to live across the street from us that had wheels for back legs.
CC: It didn’t have wheels for back legs. That was a dog wheelchair. It was a Dalmatian with hip dysplasia.
Me: Whatever. A turtle on a skateboard would be badass.
CC: I’m sorry, did you say something?
Me: A TURTLE ON A SKATEBOARD WOULD BE BADASS!
CC: Now I know why no one ever married you before me.
What is even more badass than this turtle is this turtle that I saw on rubberduckiecreations blog, the reason I had turtles on the brain to begin with. This turtle has the most badass name ever, and is so badass it is quite possibly German.
JM Randolph, accidentalstepmom 