I wonder if anyone would have predicted that after a free-wheeling, fun, singles filled weekend, and five days of babysitting four children, that I would walk away from it wanting more than ever to get married and have a family?
I went straight from a fun, singles-filled Memorial Day weekend at Duck Beach to “nannying” my friend’s four children. My friends were going out of town for a few days and asked me to come over and babysit while they were gone. I was more than happy to do it.
As a single woman living alone I don’t get a lot of chances to indulge my inherent, natural, native instincts to mother and love children. I have several special “little friends” I spoil and get hugs from when I see them. But there is that natural instinct born and bred in women to hold a baby in her arms and care for a child that single women must ignore. And it hurts. We ache. We pretend it doesn’t hurt that we do not get to use our bodies for this special gift we have been told we were created for. We want to be mothers even though the opportunity to become one has not yet (and might not ever) presented itself to us.
So I gladly cut my vacation short a few days to come home and play “fake mommy” to four children. I knew a few of my friends were watching the event with a great deal of interest. Could the single woman handle four kids? Would I really be able to do it all by myself? How long till I had to call for backup?
Not quite two days into my adventure, my best friend texted me to ask “Had your tubes tied yet?” While the mother of the kids emailed me and joked, “babysitting is the best form of birth control!” I saw the humor in the situation and laughed along with the rest of them. But the truth was that the more time I spent being a “fake mommy,” the more I wanted to be a mother.
“Fake Mommying” wasn’t that hard. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lot of hard work. I got up at the crack of dawn with an early rising toddler, saw three kids off to school, entertained a toddler all day, fixed meals, helped with last minute end of the school year extra credit projects, taxied kids to swim lessons, etc., all while also attempting to do my regular, professional, work-from-home job. I’ll be honest, I was (still am) exhausted. But I did it all. I even managed to get all four kids fed, dressed, and to church not just on time, but early! (The kids haven’t quite forgiven me for that one yet.) It was hard work, and it would have been much easier, if I wasn’t also attempting to do my full-time regular job as well. (Also, may I just add, I never want to hear the “Madagascar 3: Afro Circus” theme song ever again.)
It was the combination of a dating, hormones fueled, singles fest, followed by “fake mommy” time, that really caused me to sit down and think. At the beginning of the week, surrounded by exactly the kind of men I wanted to meet, or at that time thought I wanted to meet, I was looking for one type of man. But after discovering by the end of the week that I could handle being a single mother, the type of man I want changed significantly.
Certain aspects of what I want in a future spouse have not, and will not, change. He must be a Temple-worthy, priesthood holder, ambitious, active, funny, and kind. Those details are not up for negotiation. So how would realizing that I could handle raising children without a husband change what I want? (Please pause while those individuals who never read anything on the internet fully quickly rush to the comments section to leave me harsh comments about how it doesn’t matter that I “could,” and that it is a commandment that I “shouldn’t.” And how I need a Priesthood leader at the head of my home. In a moment, those of you who do read things entirely will be able to spot those people who do not.)
In spite of realizing I can do it all by myself, more importantly I came to the conclusion that I do not want to raise a family alone. I also realized what characteristics in a man mean more to me than others. I don’t need a man who can make a lot of money. Quite frankly, I can do that by myself. I don’t need a man who can paint the house or fix the pipes, because again, I can do that all by myself. I’m not afraid of spiders, so I don’t need a man to step on them for me. Animal control will come to take care of any snakes that dare enter my presence, so no man needed for that either. I don’t need a man for the “manly” things.
No, what I need is a man who will have an intelligent conversation with me after a long day of discussing the finer points of Phineas and Ferb. Or will tell me what happened on television stations that didn’t end in “Jr.” I want someone who will hug me and tell me I’m not a failure, and that six year old girls are just made of drama. Or when I say, “the answer is no!” he will not respond, “But WHY!?!?!?!” and crumple into a ball on the floor.
As a single woman who has had more than her fair share of years to watch her friends date and get married, and then been able to watch their marriages progress, I’ve picked up on many personality traits I do not like in certain parents and spouses. My list of “I could nevers” has grown fairly long. (For instance, “I could never marry a man who ….”) And like most women I know, my list of “I have to have a man who…” has at times been long, but tends to get revised and edited each time a new man enters the picture. I have always laughed in the past at how quickly men and women alike can edit their “I have to have a” list when they meet someone they like who doesn’t fit the requirements.
But this week, I made some very important changes to my “I could nevers” and “I have to have a” lists. I could never be with a man who has a bad temper. I could never be with a man who belittles his wife. I could never be with a man who can’t be friends with his children. I could never be with a man who chooses to spend more time away from home than at home with me and his family. I have to have a man who brings something better into my life. I have to have a man who makes my day better just by being in it. I have to have a man I respect intellectually. I have to have a man who will be a good father.
There were men I met at the beginning of the week that I found to be charming and entertaining.
But by the end of “fake mommy” week, I realized that there were different men I would prefer to have around after a day of full-time “mommying.” How he looked playing beach volleyball mattered much less to me after I had changed three toxic diapers in a row. Instead what I wanted was a man who would have known that if I was busy cleaning up the aftermath of three toxic diapers, that he should bathe the six year old and get her into bed before her expiration date.
As I put the sweet toddler to bed on the last night, I held him a few extra minutes and sang him another song (until he put his hand over my mouth to let me know he needed some quiet to fall asleep). The thought ran through my mind that it would be my last time for a while to get to hold a baby for so long. I held him not wanting it to end. I know I could be a single mother and do it all alone, if I wanted to. And oh how my heart wants to have a baby to hold. But now I have learned above all else, that I do not want to do it alone. I could, but I don’t want to. I want to have someone to share it with.
And that is the ultimate goal- to find someone to share a good life with, in hopes of making it a great life.
Now- to find him.
Erin Ann McBride is a writer, dreamer, and amateur hiker. Equal parts Mary Poppins, Carrie Bradshaw, and Mother Theresa, she goes where the wind blows, writes about relationships and dating, and is devoted to serving others. You can get more of her at the Story of a Nice Mormon Girl. She also writes about politics at SwingStateVoter.com.
