Type in "Single Mom" into Yahoo Images and one of the first pictures that comes up is "White Trash Single Mom" Barbie. Does she look white trash to you? I think she looks good. I envision myself looking like her when my baby, on human scale, is the same size as WT Barbie's. It will be nice weather here then, not the 100 degree temps that Summers in Florida are known for. Say, January, is when I aiming on putting on my mod black mini dress and bright whore red go-go boots, black Marc Jacob sunglasses, and long (brown) braids. By then, my hair will be about that long too. I am not sure what is going on with my baby's hair extension, but, that's just a detail in the big scheme of things. Looking at WT Barbie makes me happy. I know I will have friends, people like me. Albeit plastic and 10 inches tall - that doesn't sound right, well you know what I am saying - no you don't, just go with it. It took me a really long time to make quality friends in NYC. People I enjoyed spending time with, not just wasting time with. I am not a big time waster. I don't "hang out" just to have something to do. I would rather be reading or watching some lame history channel special or writing - anything but small talk. I am excited to be a Mom, but, what I am not excited about is being a "Florida Mom." I was getting internet access installed the other day. I was on hold with a local company, I had NPR on in the background (classical music after 9am). The woman helping me in a thick Southern accent said "Izzz dat babeee Ianstein?! My liddle Melody loves dat stuff!" I immediately turned to my imaginery friend and said - get a load of this lady, you gotta love it. Like the 80 year old guy that farts in the computer room at the clubhouse when it's just the two of you is just gross verses when you might be with a friend it could make your day in a similar way this woman just made me sad. Am I going to be her? Helping people with their internet connection, naming my bastard children after hookers? I know, I'm bad - I'm sure she's perfectly nice, a great mom - just not me. There has to be a niche of slightly jaded, dark humored, Moms around here. I need to find them. I have already divised some ways - but, I know it is going to be awhile before I find them. I mean, even most of my friends in NY would be semi-MIA if I would have stayed. I wouldn't blame them, non-Moms don't want to hang with Moms. Its tough. It's a demanding job - a lot of questions seemed to be hurled at you by a 4 year old and when you are lunching with a gf who is half hungover and wants to talk about her latest guy issue it kinda puts in perspective how petty your life was before. Not insulting at all - I am all about that petty life, but, I realize that it's pretty much a thing of the past. I mean, I didn't allow a friend to bring a half full bottle of wine into the caravan, keyword, for fear that it was violating some law (pretty sure it is) and immediately I thought - "what if I get arrested, I would be a Mom with a record." Whereas before, I might have drank the rest of it on the way home. It's hitting me, basicially is what I am trying to say. It's very real here. No $40 lunches, no cute guys checking you out - not knowing you are pregnant, no "wow, Juicy is really changing their style this season." I have been emmersed in an intense job search and babysitting my nephews and niece. I want to know my new life already. I'm always in a hurry. It's nuts. It's really good and it's really bad how I am. I encourage my nephews to act up so I can test my parenting skills. Am I scary enough? Am I too scary? Am I bored? It's already a blur and they're not even mine. No wonder Moms say dumb things like "you grew up so fast." What they are really saying is - I spent the past 18 years running around, yelling, being a listener, wiping tears and bottoms and I didn't really enjoy it as much as I thought I would. It seems idyllic when you are young and playing "house." But, the reality of it is - most men/fathers are non-exsistent and the bulk of the discpline/consoling is put on the Mother. I said to my friend last night - "one is enough for me." He said, uh, yeah, I hope so - you shouldn't have more than one by yourself. I have high hopes for this "one." I envision myself being really hands on and a very good mother. But, two things I refuse to do. 1.) Become an overweight, messy, bitter Mom jean wearer and 2.) Lose my sense of humor. I have a pretty good chance at holding onto both of these things. Number 1 will never happen because I will lose my Mother - she would never own up to having a less than stylish fat daughter and Number 2 will never happen because it's my favorite part of me. The rest wil happen, figure itself out for the most part. I HATED NYC when I first moved there, I'm already in a good spot here - I don't mind it, it seems familar. In reality I know it's only a matter of time before Charity and myself are lunching on Hostess Snowballs while watching the latest installment of Baby Neitzsche and I'll go back and read this blog and think "what a naive snob I was." As long as I'm not fat when I'm thinking it.