Things I think about while watching baseball...

Okay, well, not watching baseball, mostly afterwards, although a few of these thoughts did occur during the game itself.

 Little bit of background here: I used to know nothing, zip, about baseball. I mean, I knew there were four bases, and that a home run was a good thing. I knew there was a ball (hello, baseBALL), and that people hit it with a bat, but past that, I knew nothing. Today I went to my nephews' championship game (they won by the way, it was awesomely spectacular!), and while I was there I asked lots of questions and learned a lot about baseball (a lot of the baseball metaphors actually make sense to me now). Why am I telling you this? Well, while we were there, my sister-in-law asked me to hold her youngest (he just turned one not too long ago, and he's a major cutie) so she could get some pictures of her two older boys playing in the game (they're both on the same team this year), and here are where my thoughts began, although it's not where they ended...

I want to be a mom (not a new thought. I usually am a little baby-hungry after holding AJ cause he's such a cute kid).

Could I actually be a mom? (provided everything works like it should, I don't doubt my ability to give life, it's the whole raising the monkey afterwards that terrifies me).

Could I really, actually be a mom? AJ was getting a little fussy because he had missed his bottle before his nap, his food after his nap, and dinner was running late, plus it was past his bedtime (well, Mr. AJ that's what happens when your brothers are such good baseball players that they go into "sudden death," because they were tied at the 6th inning—they only do 6 innings because they're still young...see, I said "inning" because I speak baseball now.)

This is when it really started to hit me: could I be a mom? I can't keep a routine. I mean, even when I'm in school, when I get my homework done is less a matter of scheduling a more a matter of when I feel like it. I can't even remember to water my tiny little Christmas tree named Alfie every day—true, he just sits there quietly, and patiently, waiting for water; if he was a baby, I doubt he'd be as quiet about it. 

Could I really be a mom? My sleeping schedule is awful. I stay up late, sleep in late. 

I'm too selfish to be a mom, too much of a kid to be a mom, not mature enough to be a mom...do you see where I'm going here? 

Would I be a good mom? What if I mess up my kids? I mean, they're going to be a little messed up just by being my blood—we're a bunch of weirdies—but what if they're like crazy people nuts? 

I don't want to share Jake yet, but I want to see him be a dad... 

How am I supposed to know when? 

Will I just learn as I go along, or is there a manual for kids? I probably wouldn't read it anyway, because I'm too much like a guy in that respect—manual shmanual. 

I'm too selfish to be a mom: I like sleep, and doing whatever whenever, and spending all day in my PJs watching Mrs. Fletcher catch the bad guy...again. And I like writing. I mean, I know being a mom won't change that, but it will change it kind of because it won't be my time anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm a good sharer—ask Jake—but I still want my fair share. 

And then another voice chips in: but you have pretty good instincts sometimes—I stress sometimes—like today, when you saw AJ cuddling with your jacket because it was soft, and you figured out he was tired and wanted to use it as his blanket. That was good thinking...true, you couldn't get him to sleep; your niece did that, but you probably could have gotten him to sleep if you would have walked around with him like she did. 

But even my voice that cheers me on has doubts: I did say sometimes. There was that one time you couldn't get AJ to sleep when you were watching him while his mom and dad took a well deserved break from the kiddos and went out for a date... 

You know though, here's the real kicker: I know I can be a mom because I'll have Jake, and he'll be dad. Jake seems to be able to look at AJ and just know how to make him laugh, or settle down, or fall asleep, or do whatever it is AJ needs from him. 

Jake gives me hope. Maybe I can be a mom...someday...