Let’s break for an entertaining interlude. The subject of pregnancy is on the tip of everyone’s tongue these days. Including mine, thanks to my scare just recently. Everyone is showing off pictures of their blossoming bellys and newborn children. Those that aren’t mommies or mommies-to-be, are in committed relationships and can see a glimpse of mommyhood on the horizon. But what about the rest of us? We are the ones living our ideal marriage and mommyhood years in bars, hooking up with randies and never progressing past few-week-long relationships.
Well we are labelled the disappointments of the family and are written off as a lost cause. If we have brothers and sisters, our parents divert their attention and efforts on them instead. “Okay so, when are you getting married then?” But no worries, I am here to tell you all it’s going to be allright and to offer an alternate in this shameless entertainment-driven world.
Every month my friend and I repeat the same drama: one day during the month we get sick, or dizzy, or extra hungry or extremely tired and our conclusion is always: “Omg, I think I’m pregnant!” Every time we ask the same thing, well didn’t you use protection, and every time the answer is slightly different, but it always leads to the same conclusion: the effectiveness of the protection is a little shady.
For example, “I was really drunk, but I’m pretty sure I remember a condom”, “He definitely put on a condom but it broke half way through”, “We used a condom, but for a minute we didn’t and you know what they say about ‘even a drop'”, for the pill girls, “Well I’m on the pill, but I didn’t take it that night because well, I was out all night and then I was hungover and forgot”. And the list of worries continues…
And so it happens that every month we are left with this feeling of a possible pregnancy with some randy that you now hate because he never called you back after hooking up. Or, you realize the next day it was a terrible mistake.
To alleviate this horrible anxiety, and possibly the horrible anxiety of never having children, we entertained ourselves by imagining up a reality T.V. show named “Mistake” in which all of us knocked up party girls share a house together and attempt to survive raising a house filled with children. Maybe some fathers are completely absent, maybe others have visitation rights in which we get to relive our horrible mistake every time they come knocking on the door to take the kid out for an ice cream.
When the show gets too drama filled, we have built in a comic relief. My friend’s coworker, AKA Cat Lady, is a 40-year old hoping to get pregnant in the next few years. We imagine she will get knocked up by someone in the office and then she will move into the house, complete with newborn child and cats. When our mistakes come to the door, she will answer and go into detail about her cats’ hairball medication complications and ultimately this will make them feel regret for ever treating us so badly.
To sum it up, it will be a house full of breast-feeding mothers, newborn babies and cats. And that….is what is left for the rest of us.