Always, Never, Only........What If?

I always said I was never going to remarry.

I always said Fox would be my only child.

Damn always and never.

Suddenly, I'm not sure sure. About either of those things. Stupid always and never. Anytime those words are used? The Big Guy laughs really hard, because honestly? Those aren't decisions one can easily make, when only say, in the not-quite-mid-thirities. Not on the downward side to f-f-f-f-orty, at least not yet; but far enough along, that 30 seems ages ago.

Babies, with their new baby smell, their tiny fingers, baby toes, little noises, scrunched up faces. How cuddly they are, warm, tender, bringing out that very comforting Mom Rock, that soothes even the grownup that's swaying. Little clothes, tiny shoes, first smile, first .....everythings. Only this time around, maybe I'd not do it alone. Maybe, someone would recall all those details with me. Hold my hair while I puked for like 93 months. Didn't make fun of me for waddling around - let's face it, Mag's'd have a field day with the baby shower. It might even have the wandering storks I've always wanted!! Someone else to share the business end of the camera with - so maybe this time, I'd be in the pictures too.

But then....Babies? At my age? With a nearly 8 year old? Do I want to be one of those moms, dragging a wee infant to football, along with the puppy, the drinks, snacks, helmut and blanket out to the field? Up at the ass crack of dawn, to get to the Away games? Shoot, just up at the crack of dawn with a screaming infant? Diaper duty, midnight feedings, daycare, strollers, baby seats, bottles, sippy cups? Finding a home for a high chair?

Since I won't be doing the Baby Thing while Not Married this time around....that leaves the Entire Marriage Thing front and center as well. Trust is so not easy for me, so do I have it in me to walk down the aisle again? What if he already has kids? There's the blending, again, with adding perhaps another half-sibling in for good measure? Talk about going from the pan to the fire - one child to...who knows how many.

That Cinderella Me, with the Rosy Glasses (read: complete blinders) thinks maybe, just maybe, I could pull it all off. Be that stay at home mom that Foxy'd love me to be, bake all the time, H's and my Business Idea would take off, my office, snugged up to the nursery....the house vacuumed everyday, with my fabulous in-home-central-vac, dinner every night the way I'd always pictured it. Cocktail parties, a husband I actually want to come home to me, to sleep next to me at night - even if he makes chewing noises while he sleeps. Monogramed whiskey glasses. Holiday's when the table is set for more than two.

Except. Let's face it: I don't live in a fairy tale.

I have a darn near 8 year old, who's idea of slowing down is taking a shower, and throwing his smelly socks at his dog. The condo? Only has two bedrooms. Adding another baby, not to mention the pre-req family that went with it? Won't fit here. I suck at moving.

I've searched, scoured texts, rambled through the ancient stories told to young'uns here and abroad, and not a one of them stars the Single Mom Princess, With Small Gassy Dog, who finds Prince Charming, with his own munchkins, and Lives Happily Ever After.

While pondering this? I'm witnessing my version of Parental Hell: I can't tell the difference between the gas of the dog, and Foxy's feet; he's throwing (though I've REPEATEDLY asked him not to) a tennis ball (that belongs in the dryer - cuts drying time, thus electric bill) up at the edge of the loft wall. A trick I detest. I ask him to stop? I get that snotty I'm Damn Near A Pre-Tween Voice, that sets my teeth on edge.

See? How to make this decision? Looking at Fox right this very second I think, this, THIS is the reason I have only one.

Take out the always and never?

Leaves me with maybe, could be, might, and the tiny opening for the chance to make a different choice.

The tiny part is what bothers me - the disappointment of it not occurring, after setting my heart on it?

That's where never and always are, well, always safe, in that they never leave room for change.

Blasted always and never.

Dare I even contemplate the What If?