I’ve spent a good portion of my life convincing myself that I had no maternal instinct, that my biological clock was broken.   If I had that natural desire to be a mother inside of me, I would have been a mother before now.   I have watched other children, thinking they were adorable, sweet, and innocent, but they weren’t mine which was perfect.   I could ooh and aah over them, spoil them rotten, and then give them back.   It was the perfect set up, and the best part…..I didn’t get attached to them!    I anguished over the older children as they tried to speak to me and I couldn’t understand a single syllable coming from their mouths.  I would feel like an idiot as I desperately sought a rescue from their mother to help translate what their little bundle of joy was saying.   And here’s the crazy thing, every mother seemed to know EXACTLY what their child was saying.   How the heck was I ever going to be a mother when I couldn’t understand a single word my kid was saying?

So, I’ve spent quite a few years adding up all of these variables and I have finally determined that I would suck at motherhood.   Let’s add even more to this.   I don’t like the smell of poo and when someone else vomits, I have an automatic gag reflex.  I don’t know that I’m going to be able to handle my child peeing in my face, which I’m sure will happen at some point.   And then there’s the whole lacking patience quality.  What if my child doesn’t sleep?  What if he cries all the time?   And worse still what if he’s sick all the time?  All of this is of course also feeding my neurosis I blogged about before.   So on more than one occasion, I’ve found myself asking the question…..Will I be a good mommy?

My husband is awesome.  He does his typical husband and father to be duties by quickly reminding me how smart I am and how big my heart is.   I will be a wonderful mother, according to him.   My own mother has told me there will be changes, adjustments to my lifestyle, but that I will handle being a mother like I handle everything else…..I will get through it and I will be better than I give myself credit for, but I still have my doubts and my worries.  Take for example unruly kids.  I like to talk about how other people’s kids can drive me insane, especially those with parents who let them roam free.  You all know the ones I’m talking about.  They’re the ones with kids who grab a slice of pizza off of your plate and take it back to their seat, 3 tables away.   This usually elicits my best Tom Hanks “A League of Their Own” impersonation when dealing with those kids.  It’s not exactly the kids’ fault, though, considering their oblivious parents who are more concerned with themselves as opposed to their children.    And that’s when I stop myself and wonder, can I do this?   Can I be a mother?   There’s no turning back now and I’ll have to push my fears and insecurities aside.   I imagine breaking down the way Charlotte did in Sex and the City 2, when her oldest daughter smacked her in the butt with red hands while Charlotte was trying to stop her youngest daughter from crying.  Charlotte was wearing vintage white pants that were forever ruined thanks to her child.   She snaps at her daughter before locking herself in the pantry to cry.   I worry that I may have an emotional breakdown at some point as well, and if so will I be able to handle it?