I am not an outwardly emotional person. Family and friends can pretty much rely on me to be happy. Happy to see you, happy to be alive, happy that the NHL season hasn't been cancelled. Other than happy, there really isn't a lot going on in my emotional sandbox.
Occasionally, a bit of that sand will work its way into my metaphorical shoe and begin to rub. Nothing major, just enough to create some inflammation. However, over time that red spot will turn into a gaping, weeping, angry wound that has me slamming my laptop shut and folding laundry. *gasp*
The latest annoyance that has me running my washing machine like Seabiscuit has actually been my number one frustration for quite some time now. Back story: when Husband was still Fiance, we came to the agreement of having a Four Year Plan, meaning that we were going to wait until year four of marriage before we decided to have children. After having a strenuous on again, off again long distance relationship, we felt that our first years together would be better spent just the two of us. It was absolutely the right decision for us, but as we near the three and a half year marriage mark (and after a decade together), I have started to hear a very audible biological clock.
Oh and let me add, that when people ask when we plan on having children (which pretty much started the second before Husband popped the question), and we tell them about our four year plan, three out of four times, people act like we're completely stupid and will say things like, "Well you'll never be completely ready to have kids." Hell, I'm never completely ready to go to work in the morning, but I go anyway because there are certain things I did ahead of time to prepare myself for whatever might be thrown my way. That followed by the, "Well just remember, you're not getting any younger" comments (one of which was from my former OBGYN!) made me seriously consider being childless by choice. My standard response? "I may not be getting any younger, but at least I'm not getting any uglier."
Where was I...oh yes ticking time bomb. Like I said, I know that Husband and I made the right choice for us, but my frustration comes when I see yet another couple who's known each other for a minute and been married for even less time announce that they're golly gee whiz expecting bundle of joy number one (I won't even go into how I feel when it's bundle of joy number two, not enough expletives in the English language). I'm not trying to be petty or mean or by any means diminish what a wonderful thing it is when two people who love each other very much and are committed to one another bring a little human into the world. Just the opposite; I tear up and am thrilled that the little one will be brought into a home filled with love and happiness. Doesn't make me wish any less that it was my home, though.
Jealously has a tendency to leave you looking for the worst. I shouldn't be judging people at all, let alone based on the limited knowledge I have of the situation. I should assume that before they got pregnant, they had the same discussions Husband and I have; actually I shouldn't be making assumptions at all. What I should be doing is minding my own business and pray for a happy, healthy baby.
So, I wash the same blanket ten times and run in the rain (which is really just going for a run here) and snuggle Mandie and Melodie and try to not look at the calendar, reminding myself my time will come and then I'll be longing for the time when I could have a margarita at noon.