One minute I’m a free spirit rockstar living in the woods alone needing some company. Next minute I’m still a free spirit rockstar and I’m still living in the woods, but these woods are a good three days away by horse, and I am no longer alone – I’ve found myself co-habitating with a merman who washed up on my shore with two mini merboys tugging at his locks. They have six oceanic blue eyes between them, three heads of blond hair, and three minds of their own, that I now have to contend with, on a daily basis.
Be careful what you wish for, my friends.
It’s like having a triple by-pass, falling in love three at a time. The boys helped their dad woo me, and what naughty girl can resist triple trouble with cream on top? Not I.
Over the years I have vacillated between wanting and not wanting kids of my own; in my twenties I wasn’t interested, I was busy birthing musical progeny and romancing my own inner child as a matter of profession. Now at 36 the Grandfather clock is ticking, and its pendulum is hitting me in the head at regular intervals with quite some force.
There is nothing I can do but tune in… and trust. Because if there’s any department that the so-called “higher power” is in charge of, conception and birth of children must be at the top. Those who want kids can’t conceive. Those who don’t want kids fall pregnant. And then a lucky few want kids and beget them, as soon as they start trying. And then even fewer, decide kids aren’t for them, and live happily ever after without ever going through the ultimate trial-by-fire of parenting.
Ten years ago I dated a dad and he died leaving three kids behind him, and that’s a whole other story for another day. One of his children lies sleeping here in my home I share with my merman, staying for a few days, the oldest of the children whose lives and fathers I’ve shared and loved, another head of blond hair to love and wonder, when will my own baby angel come.
I am happy he is here, and angry at his dad for dying, and thankful for my merman for being alive, and my little merboys for being legends, and thankful to their mum for not being one of those evil birthmother types I’ve heard about, rather she is sweet and friendly and cool and awesome and sends me cake. I wish he could stay. And yet sometimes the scared little teenage girl in ME wants to run away. So this is my little family today: three little boys and one big daddy, me, and a host of teddies in the lounge room corner, bearing witness to our dysfunctional attempts at love.