more tick, tock from my biological clock

I used to hate kids. They made me uncomfortable. They’re just so small. And they like to get messy. And they say things that don’t make sense. And more often than not, they misbehave.

Kids misbehave everywhere. Smithsonian museums. Union Station. The Metro. And what do the parents do? They ignore the kids, instead of disciplining them. All of this nonsense was an argument in support of sterilization.

But all of that changed in January of 2005. My niece, Serena Rose, was born on December 21, 2004. Because I couldn’t go home for Xmas, I didn’t meet her until January. Before I held her in my arms, I had never before carried a baby. My brother placed her in my arms and the whole world changed. Serena Rose was a beautiful dream made incarnate. That is, until she started crying (which was seconds after she was placed in my arms). I awoke from that dream and realized that she’s the most adorable creature on earth, but I’m glad she’s not mine.


Serena Rose at 3 months

After that, my view of children softened. More and more, I started to become comfortable with my brother’s wife’s children. And now that Serena is a little older, I feel a lot more comfortable with her. I think the feeling is mutual.

The “softening” process was similar with Jesse’s niece and nephew. Chauncey is older and probably easier to relate to. London, on the other hand, is 4 and I can barely understand what she’s saying. I think some children just have a language all their own that only other children and their parents can understand. My first couple of interactions with London consisted of my asking her questions and her doing one of two things—not saying a word or saying something that I just asked her to repeat even though I still didn’t understand after subsequent repetitions.

Last Sunday, Jesse and I had dinner with his family at his parents’ house. This time around, I could understand London a little better. And Chauncey and I spent some quality time together playing. I imagine that he preferred Jesse to me (Jesse was busy entertaining London), but we still had fun nonetheless. Chauncey and I tossed a ball around between the time that dinner ended and the time that Jesse and I left. And it was lots of fun.

As I was playing with Chauncey, I imagined that this is what life would be like once I have a son. No, I’m not pregnant. BUT, around the same time that I decided that I would be married at 30, I decided that I would only have one child (with lots of dogs). And that child would be a boy. Not that I have any control over such things.

I already have a name for him. And I’ve even planned out his life somewhat. His name will be Caleb Matthew (Caleb, from my favorite book East of Eden by Steinbeck and Matthew because it just fits). And he’ll grow up in Cali. And he’ll love the beach. And he’ll love to read. And he’ll play in little league. And he might even play soccer. He’ll love watching football. And of course, he’ll love USC football and dream of going to 'SC and playing there.

Sure, I probably should be committed somewhere in order to treat this insanity, but Jesse knows. For some odd reason, we were discussing children one night very early in our relationship (probably 3 months in). And he asked me how many I wanted and I told him all about Caleb Matthew. I hesitated at first. After all, the relationship was new at the time. I didn’t want to freak him out too early with my many idiosyncrasies. But he took it all very well, even though he’s not a fan of the name Caleb. I might just make him read East of Eden.

It’s weird but I’ve been thinking of Caleb Matthew more and more lately. In my head, I used to picture him as a male version of me: thick, dark hair, fair skin, green eyes, and dimples. But now, I see him with tight, curly, dark hair with large, dark eyes, and with tanned skin.

Hmmm…I wonder why…