Scared

Now that we’re inching closer to the time when we start trying for a baby, I’m starting to get scared.

Scared of miscarrying.

Scared of the changes pregnancy and children will bring.

Scared of how the dog will react to a new family member.

Scared of not being a good mom.

Just plain scared.

And I have a feeling this is just the beginning…

Words

Image via Wikipedia

There are words that float through my head.  There are thoughts and dreams, hopes and fears, all jumbled in my mind.

I want to share them all with you.  I wish to unburden myself.  Maybe you’ll help me find clarity.

There are words I wish to say, long to say, words that eat away at my insides. I wish to share them all with you…yet, I fear that everything may not be enough. 

Perhaps I will bore you.

Perhaps you will find me lacking.

Perhaps…

Over the moon…and rough landing

Image by Vertigogen via Flickr

It’s funny how silly humans can be… Specifically, how silly I can be.

I spent a lot of time contemplating and plotting how to convince AMP that we should have children – that it was ok to renege on our ‘childless’ deal.  For a long time I was unsuccessful.  And, then suddenly, he said, ‘one day.’  And recently, we’ve narrowed it down to spring of next year, we’ll begin trying.

I should be over the moon.

And I was am over the moon.

But, once I got over that stupid moon, I think I crash landed… And not gently.

Because now, I’m also scared.

Even petrified.

Do I know what I’m getting myself into?  Am I ready for sleepless nights?  And to give up ‘just us’ time?  And naked Sundays?  (Joking about that last one – we do wear clothes, most of the time, especially when we leave the house!).

And, do I have any idea what it means to be a mother?  Watching Supernanny and helping Principessa with Mini-Principessa does not qualify me as an expert in motherhood and child rearing.  Why would the universe let me have a little teeny tiny being, and leave me in control?

These are the thoughts that run through my head these days.

No more innocent dreams of baby nurseries, and little onesies - but worries about money, breastfeeding v. formula, delivery and labor…and preschool and highschool, and everything in-between…

And, I’m not even pregnant yet…

Please tell me this is normal.

A Step in the Right Direction

I’m making some progress on the ‘domesticated’ front.

This past weekend, I managed to have my home spotless on Friday before 9:30 a.m.  Then, kept it reasonably tidy all weekend, requiring only a 20 mins or so tidying up on Sunday before my parents came over for dinner.

Yes, I had my parents, and my brother and his fiance over!  And I cooked!  Mostly.  My mom was there to guide me, but I made the lasagna all by myself, and it turned out pretty good.  Plus, the house was clean, and for once, I wasn’t incredibly nervous with having my parents over for dinner.  And the next morning, I drove AMP to work, went the to gym, ate breakfast, and had the house back to almost pristine condition all before 9. 

Now, to branch out and invite other people…. I’m not that far yet, I don’t think.  The fear of cooking for others and entertaining is still pretty crippling.  But at least I’m making progress.

Mageirocophobia

I’m not fearful of spiders or the dark.  I’m not fearful of heights or death.  I’m not fearful of thunder and lightning or of flying.

But, I have mageirocophobia – the fear of cooking, in the form of cooking for other people.

The mere thought of cooking for other people pushes me into a fear-induced panic, which includes sweating, heart palpitations and shaking. 

I have absolutely no confidence in my culinary skills.  Perhaps it is because my culinary skills are non-existent. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I can cook.  I can even theoretically follow a recipe, but cooking isn’t a pleasurable experience for me.  Every meal I make, I worry about how it’s going to taste, how it’s going to look, how it’s going to fail. 

It took me at least 6 months to vanquish the fear of cooking for A.  It helps that he’s the most non-picky eater and wonderfully understanding of my phobia and seems to always compliment anything I make.  But, I still can’t seem to cook for other people without inducing a panic attack.

Perhaps, it’s also because my inadequacies are readily apparent when you have had dinner at any one of my relative’s homes.  They are almost all amazing cooks that can produce fragrant, delicious, visually appealing meals at the drop of a hat.  I could argue that they have more experience, are older…but then there’s my cousin J… She is the picture of the perfect housewife.  She can keep her house relatively spotless, even with her active 18 month old.  She makes dinners like roasts and stuffed chicken breasts on a regular basis, and everything looks and tastes wonderful, even when it’s a simple meal.

An example — I was over there recently and she asks me if I wanted a sandwich for lunch.  Now, if I was making a sandwich for somebody on a typical day when I’m not really prepared for company – it would be just whatever deli meats I have in the fridge, mayo, and a tomato if I actually had one, and that’s probably it.  Oh, and cheese.

Her sandwich:  Toasted bread with turkey breast and cheese, tomatoes, bacon, lettuce, mayo.  On the side of the plate, perfectly sliced celery sticks. 

Even if I had tried, I could not have made it look as nice as she did. 

I think my jealousy is apparent.

I am constantly trying to conquer my fear.  When I know I will have family for the weekend or someone coming over, I always start with the full intention of cooking a meal.  I think of something simple that I’ve made hundreds of times and hardly ever mess up, and I decide that this is the time when my fear will be conquered.

And, every time, we end up ordering in or going out for dinner because the fear consumes me. 

Perhaps a cooking class is something I need to take to boost (or in my case, create) the confidence I need to tackle this ridiculous fear.

the undomestic housewife