“There are six billion people on Earth; anything that happens six billion times is hardly a miracle.”

This comment was floating around the Internet a few weeks ago and I forwarded to it some of my friends…both childfree and with kids. Most of them had the same reaction—they loved it. With advances in fertility technology these days, there really isn’t anything miraculous about procreation. From Octomom to the oldest woman to give birth (at 63) to the transgender “pregnant man,” it’s quite clear that anyone can get pregnant and have a baby. Add to it the plethora of information available via blogs, books, and magazines and it’s easy to see why the true mystery of pregnancy and childbirth that made it feel like a miracle is no longer there.

Yet, there are still people who view pregnancy and childbirth as something extraordinary. I understand the excitement that comes with something as life changing as having a baby, and when people are that happy about something in their lives, even if it’s something that doesn’t appeal to me, I have a tendency to be happy for them too. But for those whose pregnancy is more than just something new and exciting happening to them, modern-day birth has gone from being a miracle to being romanticized. And romanticizing pregnancy is not only as irritating as childfree women who buy matching outfits for themselves and their dogs, it’s also a slap in the face to those who have worked tirelessly to define (and re-define) women as more than baby-making machines.

That being said, many people are surprised to learn that I would love to experience pregnancy and childbirth, despite not wanting the end product. Or that I can’t help but stare at a woman’s big pregnant belly (the bigger the better!) and smile in awe over what’s going on in it. And I’ll never forget the time my friend Michelle suddenly grabbed my hand and put it on her belly so I could feel kicks and movements. Why, if I don’t want to have kids, does this appeal to me? Because like many things in nature, I just think it is cool. I watched in fascination this summer as a caterpillar spun a cocoon and turned into a butterfly. Everyday I checked in on that cocoon and could see things developing and changing inside. It was remarkable to watch it unfold. It was fun to watch nature do what it does. And I do find that same joy in watching friends go through a pregnancy. It’s only when women think that being pregnant puts them in a different category of existence, that they are somehow doing something more than what nature simply allows us to do, that makes the experience annoying. (Lucky for me, Lori was never THAT kind of person.)

My friend Michelle shared her belly experience with me not because she thought it was a miracle or because she thought she was special. It wasn’t anything that was planned even; I had never asked her if I could feel her belly. It just happened. We were in her office at work, hammering out the details of some project we were working on together. And after I felt her soon-to-be-born son, Jackson, doing flips, I said to her, “Wow. That was cool.”

“Yeah,” she said, “It was.”

And with that, we turned back to her computer and continued our work.

It reminded me that I need a little break.  I need a break from being a wife and from being a mom and from being a housekeeper and chef.  I need a break to get back to ME, just me and let everything else fall away.  I don’t see it happening anytime soon, but it was good to realize that I need it as soon as I can swing it.

Thanks, Barb and Stephanie, for helping me remember who I was before I had a baby.  I used to travel spontaneously at least five times a year, and I almost forgot what that was like.  Who knows, maybe you’ll just see me at the next Girl’s Weekend!

Enjoy Morro Bay and the California coast.  It’s a beautiful place to be…I’m with you guys in spirit!

It was great to see her as always (and the muffins she brought were amazing, who knew vegan shit could taste this good?), and I was glad that it happened.  The funniest memory from that day, though, was Barb’s comment about my nail polish.  My sister-in-law bought me this color because I complimented her the week before when she was wearing it.  It’s a brownish grey, which is a new thing for me, and it’s also “in” right now as it turns out.

Barb:  Dark nail polish, huh?

Lori:  Yeah, Danielle got it for me.

Barb:  That’s so 80s dude.

Lori:  Really?

Barb:  Yeah, back in the 80s all that dark shit was popular.  You didn’t know that?

Lori:  Not really.  I didn’t wear nail polish in the 80s, except for prom.

Then we moved onto other subjects a little more engaging and intellectual, but it kind of sat weird with me.  Who is Barb, of all people, to tell me I was stuck in the 80s?  She doesn’t have cable, has never owned an iPod and her cell phone isn’t technologically capable of sending or receiving text messages, and I’M the one stuck in the 80s?  Think again.

It got me thinking about who Barb and I were in the 80s, and wondering if we would’ve been friends back then.  Then I started thinking about the friends I had in the 80s, 90s and 2000s, how they were similar and how they were different.  My friends change as my life changes, but some of them will be in my life forever.  You never really know who’s gonna stick and who’s going to fade to black, and that’s kind of the fun of it.

I also thought about who my friends might be in the next 20 years, and how much they would differ from the past 20 years.  I can see my friends becoming my mommy friends, the ones who have kids the same age as mine.  But even though I’m hanging out with more mommy friends, the personalities of my friends remain the same.  Regardless of circumstance, marital status or spawn count (as Barb likes to call it), all my friends have three main traits in common; they’re kind, thoughtful and fun to be around.

My husband and I are going to Barb and Emmett’s tonight for their summer party, and even though the food will be vegan I know we’ll have an awesome time.  Why?  Because I love hanging out with them, and I love hanging out with and catching up with their friends.  And that’s because they fit the bill to be on the top of my list.  So even though it’s BARB who’s stuck in the 80s I can’t help but forgive her.  She might not have an iPod, but she’s still a hell of a lot of fun to be around.

I think from now on, I’ll employ a different strategy for encouraging Lori to leave Matteo with a sitter more often. Instead of internally admiring him, I’ll do it overtly, going over-the-top to the point of obnoxious. Maybe she’ll find that annoying enough to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

I’ve noticed lately that the distance between us is growing.  Maybe it’s been that way for awhile and I’m slow to notice, but recently I feel like I’ve been reaching out trying to make plans with Barb, only to get a slow and half-hearted response.  In the past I would mention getting together and she would throw out a few dates and we would make it happen.  But the last few requests have vanished into thin air.

I know she’s busy, but that isn’t anything new.  She always plans her time and has a ton of things going on.  The difference lately is that she used to have some room to work me in.  When we finally connected over the phone this week I felt like she wasn’t really that interested.  “I can’t do Wednesday, Thursday or Friday” (or something like that).  We finally agreed on a “tentative” get together Tuesday, which is something totally new.  Barb’s a planner, and to be on her “tentative list” is a first.  

I know I’m becoming more of a “mom” these days.  Since losing my job seven months ago, my identity has definitely shifted.  The career identity is a faint memory, although I’m working on starting my own business.  I’m spending more time at the park with other moms, watching Jon & Kate plus 8 on DVR and looking through cookbooks for new meal ideas.  Right now I’m drinking coffee in my pajamas watching Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch while Matteo plays on the floor.  Meanwhile Barb makes plans for Girl’s Weekend, camping with her hubby, writing classes and whatever else she decides she wants to do.  There’s a part of me that’s jealous of the freedom she has to go where she wants when she wants.  But it’s a small part.

A bigger part of me is sad to know that she is drifting away and our commonalities may be dwindling.  Maybe if our “tentative” get together happens we will reconnect and I can say I’m just imagining it.  Maybe I’ve been the one out in left field preoccupied with playdates and nap time.  But something is definitely different, and I hope it’s not a signal of the end.

Since I announced I was pregnant there has always been pending doom for our friendship, at least in Barb’s eyes.  She has been down this road before and lost (or cut off) friendships when kids came into the picture.  But it’s all new territory for me.  None of my friends have kids, and although we get together less frequently I don’t worry about our friendship ending.  With Barb, though, it’s different.  With her I feel like I’m on a never-ending job interview for a job I’ll never get.

I’ll just do what I do and hope for the best.  I guess tentatively is a good word for Tuesday, and maybe every day after that.

So I learned a new phrase last week:  Helicopter Mom.  I cracked up the first time I heard it, because I was always so aware of the behaviors these moms exhibit and never heard such a poignant way to describe it.  They’re the moms that hover over their children, never allowing themselves to be out of arm’s reach of their offspring.  Their kids don’t fall because Mom is there to catch them before they hit the pavement.  I don’t understand how they operate, but I think it’s definitely a wiring thing.  I’m just not wired that way, and I think Matteo is better off because of it.  Granted, Matteo is worse off because of other reasons, but we don’t need to go into that right now.  

Becoming a Mom has made me realize how much I don’t know, and learning this phrase at least reminded me of one thing I DO know.  I will NEVER be a Helicopter Mom.  And hopefully that’s one little bit of reassurance for Barb.  I might be a FWK, but at least I’m not a Helicopter Mom.  That makes me feel good.

This past Monday Barb and I got together with our friend Nicole, the girl Barb refers to as The Conduit.  Nicole introduced Barb and I years ago and we just hit it off.  Over the years the three of us girls would get together to hang out and drink, but we would also discuss politics, our dreams, and how we want to live our lives.  It was always inspiring to be in the same room with Barb and Nicole, and I’m happy to report that it still is.  Our visit was short (4 hours) compared to previous times, but it was SO worthwhile.

We met at Nicole’s parent’s house.  Nicole had flown in from her new home state of Colorado to attend a conference, and Monday night was the only night that worked for all three of us.  We hung out on the patio overlooking the canyon and caught up on each other’s lives.  The best part?  When the subject of having babies came up, Nicole dodged the bullet so smoothly!

We know Barb’s not having babies, and we know I am.  Nicole, however, has been on the fence with the subject.  She’s working in education now so her increased exposure to children I think has caused her biological clock to tick louder than before.  In fact, I proclaimed that Nicole would be pregnant by the end of the year.  Barb about had a heart attack.

I know Nicole has her concerns about being a mother; the physical exhaustion that comes with creating a life, the emotional ups and downs that come with the hormonal roller coaster and the psychological impact on both parents when you are responsible for another person.  But she also has that look in her eye when she talks about having a baby.  That look of wonder and amazement at what it must feel like to help mold and shape, guide and inspire the next generation of people that will make the world a better place.

I wish Nicole the best on her journey for the next year, and although I’m sure she’ll have a baby I’m also sure that if she doesn’t she’ll be fine with that, too.  It’s been interesting to watch her perspective change from hesitant to anticipatory, and I’ll be in the bleachers with my popcorn to see what happens.  I know her husband is more freaked out by the proposition than she is, but know that she’s open to what the experience will bring to her life.

As for Barb, I’m not sure how she’s gonna handle it.  If both Nicole and I are FWKs, that might be enough to push Barb over the edge and cut us off.  Or maybe since Nicole is out-of-state it won’t make a big difference.  It’s fun, though, to be sitting on the mommy side of the fence and Barb on the CFF side, hanging out watching Nicole teeter from side to side.

Only time will tell…

Last week was a first for me: Mom’s Night Out at the Nail Salon. It felt strange, spending “free” time with a bunch of moms, but it also felt good. After all, none of my pre-Matteo friends have kids, so there have been times that I feel like I’m floating in a lifeboat on the side of the cruise ship while my CFF friends are partying it up on board.

I met ten other moms at one of those strip mall nail salons where the white women are getting pampered by the vietnamese men and women who work there. When I first moved to California nine years ago, that environment kind of bothered me. But anymore it’s just part of the landscape, so I walked in with my wine and snacks and took a seat in the bad ass massage chair, handed my color of choice to the man sitting at my feet, picked up my glass of wine in one hand and People magazine in the other and starting reading about Kate Gosslein of Jon and Kate + 8. WHAT? DID I JUST SAY THAT?

Yes, I did. I chatted and caught up on celebrity gossip and didn’t have to hear children or husbands or parents or anything. I loved it, and you know what? I loved hanging out with other moms without their kids around. It’s funny, I didn’t think I had very much in common with a lot of these women, but without our kids around we were actually able to get to know each other as individuals. What a concept.

After we all got manicures and pedicures, we went over to one of the mom’s house for more wine drinking and sitting around the fire pit. We talked about our kids a little bit, but mostly we talked about the experience of motherhood, our husbands, our lives “before kids”, books we’ve read, places we’ve traveled to, etc.  We even stayed out until midnight - something I NEVER expected doing with other moms!  It was a great time, and what made it even greater was that it was a surprise.  I got to know these women as Suzi, Bobbi, Erin, Tricia and Sonya instead of their previous identities of Nicolas’ Mom, Landon’s Mom, Kiley’s Mom, and so on.

For the first time I think I understand more about where Barb is coming from in describing the difference in our visits when Matteo’s around.  I always knew it was different, after all there’s another person there, but I never really EXPERIENCED it quite like I did with Mom’s Night Out.

And for me to understand more about where Barb is coming is saying something, considering most times I seriously think we live in completely different galaxies.