"I don't want to be a Mommy Bot!"
It's raining and I'm cuddled on the sofa with Mary Poppins and a cat.
We spent the afternoon looking at art, from paintings by a good friend at the local Unitarian church, and then out to Artomatic to scope out some of the art we'd missed on opening night. The former was a lovely gathering of friends and conversation, and the latter was a much more optimistic experience than it had been two nights prior. Fewer people, the lights were on, and to my surprise, a few visitors had stopped by to sign my book with nice comments. Rob and I dropped off a couple of chairs and a little table to allow people to rest while viewing, as well as to put something on when we bring a veggie tray for the reception Friday (hope you can come!)
. . .
On the phone with an old friend the other day, I was telling her about the show, and she thought for a moment and then said to me, "y'know, Morgan. I really think it's good you're doing all this showing and activity." "Yes," I answered. "I have this idea that if I don't do it now I never will." She interrupted me (as she's wont to do) and said, "no. I mean, you're keeping your identity. You're not one of Them."
Thoughts of motherhood are naturally on my mind these days. Firstly, I am so thrilled to have this experience, and I'm excited and blessed that I get to share something so completely unreal with whom the one person in the whole world I want to spend my future-- the man I married. I couldn't have asked for a better husband and best friend, and I look forward to being parents together.
Having said that, I do fear losing the things that make me ME, namely the insistence of creating and of being surrounded by art and culture and discussion and music and spontaneity and sex.
Yesterday I was still pondering that phone conversation and we went out to the burbs to take in a movie (Iron Man-- SO GREAT!) with some friends out in Ashburn. On the long drive out there, I was observing the surroundings: house house house house house house house house dog dog kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid, ad nauseum. When we arrived to our destination and Rob asked me what I was thinking about, I actually started to cry, right there in our friends' driveway. "I don't want to live here," I said. "I've been thinking about this and realized we'll never be able to have that loft in the city and I won't be able to make art very often and I don't want to be a Mommy Bot!" He hugged me tightly and assured me that while things will be different, absolutely no, we will never live out there, that's the last thing he wants either.
While our own suburban section of the metro area is pretty kid-friendly and we pass the soccer field on weekend mornings lined with minivans and SUVs, tiny tots running around being cheered on by parents in folding chairs, we do enjoy things like trees and art and farmers' markets and neighbors of many different languages.
I don't want others to take offense to my opinion, but I just need to know that being a parent does not have to equal soccer mom status, that I can still retain an intelligent thought in my head after giving birth, that I can still be Me.
And with that, it's dinner time.
We spent the afternoon looking at art, from paintings by a good friend at the local Unitarian church, and then out to Artomatic to scope out some of the art we'd missed on opening night. The former was a lovely gathering of friends and conversation, and the latter was a much more optimistic experience than it had been two nights prior. Fewer people, the lights were on, and to my surprise, a few visitors had stopped by to sign my book with nice comments. Rob and I dropped off a couple of chairs and a little table to allow people to rest while viewing, as well as to put something on when we bring a veggie tray for the reception Friday (hope you can come!)
. . .
On the phone with an old friend the other day, I was telling her about the show, and she thought for a moment and then said to me, "y'know, Morgan. I really think it's good you're doing all this showing and activity." "Yes," I answered. "I have this idea that if I don't do it now I never will." She interrupted me (as she's wont to do) and said, "no. I mean, you're keeping your identity. You're not one of Them."
Thoughts of motherhood are naturally on my mind these days. Firstly, I am so thrilled to have this experience, and I'm excited and blessed that I get to share something so completely unreal with whom the one person in the whole world I want to spend my future-- the man I married. I couldn't have asked for a better husband and best friend, and I look forward to being parents together.
Having said that, I do fear losing the things that make me ME, namely the insistence of creating and of being surrounded by art and culture and discussion and music and spontaneity and sex.
Yesterday I was still pondering that phone conversation and we went out to the burbs to take in a movie (Iron Man-- SO GREAT!) with some friends out in Ashburn. On the long drive out there, I was observing the surroundings: house house house house house house house house dog dog kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid kid, ad nauseum. When we arrived to our destination and Rob asked me what I was thinking about, I actually started to cry, right there in our friends' driveway. "I don't want to live here," I said. "I've been thinking about this and realized we'll never be able to have that loft in the city and I won't be able to make art very often and I don't want to be a Mommy Bot!" He hugged me tightly and assured me that while things will be different, absolutely no, we will never live out there, that's the last thing he wants either.
While our own suburban section of the metro area is pretty kid-friendly and we pass the soccer field on weekend mornings lined with minivans and SUVs, tiny tots running around being cheered on by parents in folding chairs, we do enjoy things like trees and art and farmers' markets and neighbors of many different languages.
I don't want others to take offense to my opinion, but I just need to know that being a parent does not have to equal soccer mom status, that I can still retain an intelligent thought in my head after giving birth, that I can still be Me.
And with that, it's dinner time.