Stalling

The goal was to write a short story in a couple of days. I forgot I’d have three little ones home on summer vacation. They are busy little guys. They’re good at draining so much from me that I only want to sleep. Or, like last night, I wasn’t thinking of sleep. Not before 11:00 last night anyway. I was thinking of writing about a Mommy and her mommy issues. But that’s not the story I wanted to share. I was just having a really difficult time channeling the story I had started on. Those thoughts were so scattered.
On the plus side, I did learn a bit about my writing style. Like in the past, the thoughts flow much more fluidly when it’s late at night. I’ve learned about the music in my writing though. I can’t listen to music with lyrics or a dance beat. I tend to sing or get up and dance. But I seem to thrive when listening to classical music. It’s calming and it doesn’t drive me to distraction.
How am I writing now? The kids are home with the sitter. I’m sitting in my husband’s frigid office, waiting for him to get off. He’s listening to some rap/hip hop station. (Not my cup of tea, or brand of cola) There is internet access, but since they have a SONICwall blocking anything fun, writing is happening. Nothing creative, mind you. This is more informative. Because again, there’s the rap/hip hop stuff going on and through my ears, filtering to my brain which can’t seem to create like this.
So, that short story is still coming. It’s just coming slowly. I can’t seem to function unless I’ve had plenty of alone time. Hopefully lots of good writing will happen this weekend. Crossing fingers and toes, and hoping and wishing so hard, it’s like holding my nose.
In other gripeyness. . . I had a conversation with someone. We talked about my child care provider, who I love! He’s older than I am by a couple of years. The kids adore him. He’s punctual if not early on days that I have appointments. On days when I’m flexible, he is too. We’re flexible when it comes to time because I stay at home, and whether or not he comes over, I’m usually stuck at home. The point of conflict came when I let her know he is gay. No, it’s not my closet to come out of, but I’d much rather face that let down than pass on his info to have that slap him in the face. He’s a wonderful person and when I let people know how wonderful he is, they naturally want to know if he’s free.
The part that bothered me was how radically things change when the admission is made that his sexual preference is different from most breeders. She specifically said, “I have no problem with their orientation, I just don’t want to see it.” Frankly, I don’t think he’d want to see what happens in her bedroom either. Then she said, “Well, I guess it’s okay if he has a boyfriend.” As if sexual predators don’t come in straight, or female, old or young. People are capable of all sorts of things, no matter what excites them. Some people are just sadistic. I’m grateful to have such a warm and gentle care giver for my children. He even does housework. I’m happy with him. I don’t care to discuss what happens in my bedroom and neither does he. Sexual preference aside, we have much in common and he’s become a really good friend.
Beyond that, we talked about my surrogacy. I’m happy to share what I’m doing because it’s something that feels good. I feel no shame. She asked if I had thought about having more of my own children. My husband wants to try for a girl, but I feel my hands are full, and I’m content with the three boys I have. She went on to add that with two autistic children, having more would be an unreasonable gamble. I feel that children are a blessing in their way, but there is a cost. Most days I’m glad I’m a Mom of three. Some days I wish I weren’t. I’m sure that admission makes me evil in some people’s books. I’m over it. I haven’t given up. I’m just more realistic about it all. I love my children. I can’t imagine life without them, nor would I really want to. At the same time, I know how much work motherhood requires. I know what it’s like to stay up with a sick baby. I know that we plan to care for our children for at least 18 years. I also know that sometimes those plans must change and we have to figure out their care after we are gone and they still need us for basic daily needs. For that reason, I feel that what I have is enough.
I am a surrogate. I love being pregnant. I love being able to help someone who really wants a baby to achieve that goal. It’s a choice. I choose to help them, just as they trust me with the most precious part of their hearts. It all means so very much. As far as my own family, I feel we’re at a good place. This is based on what I want to go through. At the end of the day, my desire to have more children will not specifically burden anyone outside of my family. It tends to be my family that gets asked to babysit. It tends to be my family asked to attend birthday parties. So as far as my family is concerned, it’s no one else’s business. One day I may decide I miss having a little one running around the house. I may give it one more try to have a little girl with my husband. At that time, it will be a decision that my husband and I make. It will not be something we ask others to weigh in on. That being said, unsolicited advice or opinions are not requested, required or appreciated.