Hubs and I went to a party last weekend that was hosted by some friends who got married the week after I did. They have a lot more friends with children than we do, so there were ankle biters in the pool and all over the backyard. The kids were cute but, thankfully, not my responsibility. I watched their parents chase them around the pool and tirelessly ensure that the booger eaters were not drowning. It seemed like a lot of work. Apparently, even when children are wearing those really uncomfortable floaties, you still have to make sure they're breathing. Weird.
I looked up from a conversation with the party host to see her husband joyously chasing some kids around the pool . Like us, they have been married just under 6 months, and neither of them have any kids. I asked her if it made her nervous that her husband was having so much fun running after munchkins. She said that she was trying to pretend that it isn't happening. "We would have had kids months ago if I let him." I laughed and raised my eyebrows.
Then, my genius husband looks at her and says, "Oh yeah, she's the same way."and points at me.
If the look I shot him was a rubber chicken shooting gun, he would have been chicken slapped a thousand times. I get that I have a weird and twisted way of dealing with things, but I am still not ready to have even my closest friends in my ovarian business. They know me as the brash, edgy, angry, intelligent friend who cannot be bothered by spit up and colic. I'm not ready to soften my edges yet. Sometimes I think he forgets the difference between inside conversations and outside conversations.
I am naturally very maternal, but I'm also naturally very snarky. I tone down the snark at work, and I spend all day being maternal me. I'm snarky with my husband, but he knows I'm full of it. I go from zero to ball of mush the second that a puppy is near. And don't even get me started on the waterworks that accompany Publix commercials. For some reason though, this is an image that I keep private. It's not a feminism thing. I can be snarky and still feel like I should cook dinner (badly). It's just a me thing. It's an arms length thing. It's a who-in-the-world-told-you-that-you-could-come-near-my-thoughts thing.
It's a stay out of my mind and my ovaries thing.
And hubs? Zip your yappy trap.
But, as always, it's hip to be square, kids.