in me by a few in a myriad of ways. I, however, am caught perplexed.
Theres been some sort of cosmic shift in hormones, or life goals, or pressures from a nonexistent clock ticking and tocking on so many of those around me. Maybe I'm just not paying attention?
As I morph more and more into this 'adult' phase of my life, like a baby Transformer into my pseudo Onyx-esque self, I can't help but notice the women around me are transitioning into their own as well. Well, there own, plus room for 3 or 4 others.
Oh boy, or girrllllll.
What I am talking about is my girlfriends and aptly informative female acquaintances proactively discussing having children, seeking out men and getting married and yes, settling down. In the next 5 years.
Did someone hear a grandfather clock strike twelve or something?
I should clarify. I am not shocked or even remotely surprised that my friends and I aspire to have families. Of course we do. I am surrounded by beautiful, ambitious and determined women who want the world and the plate that it's served on - why wouldn't they add a blessing like family to that roster?
What does cause a slight raise in my tweaked and threaded brows is the self-imposed timeline they ideally see this happening in. '5 years' they all unanimously tout as if it isn't only 5 years away from now.
Least I remind you that at a mere twenty-four years old, I am the oldest of my immediate D.C friends. About half of us are en route toward our Bachelor's; the other half has been out of the collegiate rigamaru for only a year or so.
And seemingly persuasive argument after argument I always ask: Why the rush? Why the countdown to what will ultimately be your life - for the rest of your life - when you decide to take either leap into marriage and babyhood.
Without fail they all cite this make believe ticking clock. One that must have been the exact same clock on Cinderellas' ass because apparently they too will turn into hags -only this time dressed in nothing but their youthful age and successful careers, albeit sans babies and mundane husbands.
The difference, I would dare to say, between them & I in this race to the beginning of our youthful end is that I come from a Forever 21 mother. Or should I say she was 19. I've been the kid who grew up with her 'kid' parent - learning from each other and trekking through life and its hurdles together. I come from a twice broken home, without a reliable other half to help take on the burden that becomes the once blessid parenthood once you have to do it alone. Im also the oldest of my other siblings. So when my girlfriends are cooing and awing over babies because they were their families baby, I gingerly remember changing so many diapers I dubbed myself an expert; getting feeding and burping down to an unscientific science and making the exact right face that no child under the age of 4 can resist. After 4, eh it's hit or miss.
Don't get me wrong - I adore children. But all in due time. My great-grandmother had children well into her forty's and without hesitation of her age or health. I am not mistaken about any out-of-change-meter on my ovaries.
I suppose what I am getting at is that while my girlfriends may have fantasies of playing house, raising babies all amidst building entrepreneurial empires 'because thats what my mom did', I feel a somewhat self-perpetuated guilt to live out my 20's to the fullest. Travel the world for my mom because she still can't. Obtain this in-progress degree because no one before me has and I know I can. Make the mistakes I am bound to walk into without a slew of repercussions and mini-me's at my feet wondering when and where their life is going next. I believe everything in life is about timing.
Right now I can't even tell me where these two feet, this V8 drive and my restless relentlessness will take me. But for now, without judgement onto those who differ, I'll be doing it without a babysitter.
