I Would Be a Great Soccer Mom

I should not be allowed to be around children when I am ovulating. It puts ideas in my head. It's funny because I was never one of those girls who wanted to be a mom since she was two. I was the opposite. I wanted to be a single, independent actress with no family or kids to keep me from pursuing my career. I thought babies were weird looking alien things that spewed and shit all the time. Ok, I still do kind of think that, but the little people have grown on me.
I remember taking Child Development in high school, still convinced I didn't want children. We had these flower sack babies. I named mine Christian River Phoenix Slater. The first night I brought him home, I left him on the table, and my dog ate a chunk out of his head. These are not the signs of a great parent in the making.
However, all of this started to change when a certain little girl came into my life. One day my brother picked me up after school with a surprise, a little, crazy looking baby. I think she was maybe almost a year old. From that moment on, she became an integral part of my life. Granted, it took awhile, but she stole my heart.
I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Bree. She was staying at our house while her mom had surjery, and she was sick. My mom had been up with her for several nights, and she was exhausted so I reluctantly volunteered to take a shift with the kid. I remember her sobbing because she was so miserable, and I really had no idea what to do. I just held her, rocked her, sang to her, things I had seen my mom do. She began to quiet in my arms, and at that moment I felt this form of love I had never experienced before, all contained in this tiny body.
That is when my journey into childcare began. I lived with Bree for several months when she was around three. We played school everyday, and I taught her how to write her name and the alphabet while we listened to the Beatles. Her smile and her laughter warmed even the coldest of nights.
She was the first of many children who have stolen their way into my heart. There is also Ian, love of my life. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time has been subjected to endless stories about Ian and his sister, Aida. I met Ian when he was six weeks old. He had a very large head and resembled Stewie from "The Family Guy." He was one of those fussy babies, and the other teachers in the classroom found him annoying. I found him irresistible. We became the best of friends, and four years later, I am still in his life. I have witnessed his first steps, first teeth, first words. His father affectionately refers to me as Ian's first girlfriend.
I could fill a book with stories of other children and their impact on my life. Who knows maybe someday I will. A few years ago, doctors told me that I will never be able to carry a child full term. I haven't fully tested out their theory, and I'm still not too keen on wrecking my hot little body in childbirth, but as much as I have tried to convince myself that I don't want kids, I can't lie. I want a couple dozen of various ages, sizes, colors. I've spent the last seven years helping raise other people's kids, and I know the downsides, but the upsides far outweigh any obstacles.
I know the world is overpopulated and people don't need to keep having babies, but I also know there have to be kids out there who are looking for a mom like me. Someday, when I am more financially stable, I am going to adopt. I've toyed with the idea of being a foster parent, but it was traumatic enough when I had to give up my foster kitten. In the mean time, I will settle for being Punk Rock Mary Poppins to as many children as possible.