OPK

That is, Other People's Kids.

As much as I have difficulty with Mrs Precious (and assorted other pregnant women) I have some to the conclusion that I have absolutely no problem with spending time with the babies and children of other people. Whilst my own personal pain is always there, kids are fun. They make me laugh and they awe me with the very fact of their existence. They way they think, learn and grow is amazing to watch and to interact with them reminds me of exactly why I want one of my own.

This weekend, we had a 2 year old over to our place on Saturday night (with her parents, of course) and went for lunch on Sunday with a 4 year old (and her parents - more about them later). Their litle minds are hilarious and I can't help but love the way they draw everyone around them into their little worlds. Everyone is potentially their friend and the honesty of their behaviours and emotions is effortless.

AdventureBoy is also an official kid magnet, so any which we find in our vicinity are immediately drawn into his orbit and the games abound. He tickles and clowns and has all the time and energy for them they they could possibly demand. He even pulls silly faces at kids in the supermarket, at the bank, anywhere. It doesn't matter if he doesn't actually know them, if it's a child, it's there for fun. In many ways he is like a big kid himself. He is the life of the party where any kids are involved and he is the favourite 'Uncle Monkey' of his many nephews.

I hadn't actually noticed that I was OK with children until this weekend. Last week, I started thinking about the approaching kid visits and started worrying about how I would be. If I would be OK. If it would be too hard. If I would think only of myself. And then, I wasn't. I didn't realise that none of those things had happened, not until the end of the weekend had arrived. In fact, I had fun and enjoyed their company and marvelled at how much they knew and how much their presence warmed my heart.

It's the pregnant women that bother me most. It's where I want to be right now. Of course, the children are what I want too, but perhaps they seem just so far away that I can't even get upset about something that is that much into the future. It's the apparently abstract concept of pregnancy (that I had but the tiniest taste) that hurts me the most. And even then, only particular people's pregnancies.

Especially Mrs Precious.

I phoned her this afternoon. I was proud of myself. I managed the keep my emotions deep inside and successfully deflected all comments relating to her pregnancy and her consistent references to her 'pregnancy brain' to justify something she might have done which was stupid, forgetful or just plain nasty. I really just didn't want to know about it.

Was I being completely selfish? Probably.
Did I have to? Absolutely.

I'm not sure how long it will need to be like this. In all reality (and complete honesty) it will probably only genuinely end when I am pregnant myself. I hope with all I have that it happens before she has hers. I know I'll have to deal with it if I'm not ... and many have trodden that path before me ... but it will be a hard one to follow.

And now I'm off for a bit of 'trying' in the quaint and old-fashioned way.

It can't hurt to try.