Despite popular belief to the contrary, I'm not a particularly covetous person. I have never really had "to have" something to the point of obsession.
Really. And by the way, quit rolling your eyeballs like that – they might freeze that way and boy, won't you look strange at the office on Monday.
(And bags and shoes don't count since those are essential items of clothing that you need in order to be fully dressed.)
In fact, there are very, very few things I've wanted in life that I can recall.
When I was four I wanted my own Ferris wheel. The local feria came to town and I was so fascinated by the concept of owning my own Ferris wheel that I hoarded all my leftover baon, Christmas money and birthday gifts for years in a little coin bank shaped like a house. I was sure that once I had filled up my little house, I'd have enough money for a Ferris wheel. Not to ride mind you, since I was terrified of heights. I actually just wanted one to put in the yard. Like a species of lawn ornament like those pink plastic flamingos people bring home from Florida…or more indigenous to the Philippine setting, those plaster statues of the seven dwarves which were all the rage in the '70s.
(Which brings to mind a totally unrelated question which has bothered me for years, where the heck is Snow White in all of this? Why only the dwarves? Doesn't she come with the complete set?)
By the way, my cruel parents did not disabuse me of the notion of owning my very own carnival ride until several years later. Luckily, it was not legally possible to own one without a permit. Also, after two years, I had only managed to save up the spectacular sum of P 60.00 --- which upon learning that I didn't have enough for a Ferris wheel, I was glad to know was however, enough to buy a My Melody pencil case.
When I was five, I desperately wanted an older brother. Thus, when my mother announced she was having a baby, I figured my prayers had been answered. You can imagine my dismay when they came home from the hospital with a SISTER. And worse, it was a YOUNGER, and as all babies are cute, a MUCH CUTER sister. I immediately blamed my father for failing to explain that brothers and sisters come in starter sizes (i.e. in infants form) and cannot be ordered to measure. Drat. Of course, she eventually grew and developed some form of usefulness to me, but I've never really gotten over it.
My childhood trauma apparently cured me of wanting stuff because next thing you know…I'm not only Ferris wheel-less but also pushing forty and not really wanting anything with the same intensity as I ever wanted that Ferris wheel.
Except for a baby.
Ok fine, I'm being greedy, seeing as I'm already the proud possessor of a feisty soon to be five year old chick who thinks nothing of threatening with strangulation the naughty little boy who pulled her hair – a feat I'm extremely proud of by the way. However, it's just like the Pringles Principle – you know how you eat a Pringle potato chip and it's so darn good, you really, really must have another one? It's sort of like that – in a, (ahem) deeper more profound way of course – God knows how much trouble I'll get in now for comparing my only daughter to a snack item.
Thus, two years ago, Ron and I embarked on the quest for Baby # 2. I will not even get into the horrific details. Needless to say, it involved a lot of hormones (resulting in a less than pleasantly disposed Miscen), scheduling of the "Activities" (which a friend in the same situation observed ruined the fun of actually creating the baby and which, according to him prevented him from being at "performance level").
However, despite my organizational skills which made sure that all "appointments" with Ron were kept at the optimum time and despite ingesting enough hormones to impregnate several infertile (even possibly male) elephants – still no baby.
So we gave up.
But right as my doctor was making an appointment for me with a fertility specialist – lo and behold – I got pregnant, quite by accident and with no chemical inducement involved.
Needless to say, I'm ecstatic.
Except for the times when I need to clarify that "No, I'm NOT fat, I'm pregnant" or the times when I want to scream at people for no apparent reason (or did I already do this prior to pregnancy?) or fall asleep in the middle of a sentence….
Uhh….what was I talking about again?
