You Probably Need a Will, So Here's How to Have That Potentially Awkward Conversation with Your Family
Remember, if you die without a will, the state will determine who inherits
I've been dating my current boyfriend, James, for about a year. We're still in that super-mushy, I-actually-wear-makeup-to-the-gym phase, which makes me cringe as I type it out, but I’m not about to apologize for being so full of this new-ish love that I’m actually sitting at my computer smiling like a jerk just thinking about it.
Being in love is great. Trying to force the person you love to have a baby with you (right now) is not.
You see, James and I vowed to take this relationship stuff as it comes, partly because of this, and partly because we’re adults and I’m past the point where I scrawl “Mrs. So-and-so” all over my notebooks. So why do I feel the need to bring up procreation every single time I take a sip of alcohol in his presence? When I’m thinking clearly (or, when we’re not having cocktails with dinner), I know I want children… someday. I don’t want to wait a billion years to get pregnant, but I also realize it doesn’t have to happen right this second.
The first time I brought this up was four measly months after we started seeing each other as we sat -- surprise, surprise -- in a bar.
“James,” I said seriously, looking into his eyes, “I am going to have all of your babies.”
The topic of children hadn't really even come up in our relationship yet. You know how my previous makeup-to-the-gym admission made me cringe? Well this is SO MUCH WORSE THAN THAT, and yet I can't stop.
My baby fever -- which is usually only kind-of off the charts thanks to my friends' adorable kids and Instagram posts -- turns into booze-fueled, full-blown baby wanting, but I wake up the next day and my desires are in check and I'm not pressuring anyone to give me children right this second. Life goes back to normal, but then I have a cocktail again and I'm all, "LET'S MAKE A BABY BY THE END OF THE YEAR."
There are probably a few reasons for this, I think. I’m a writer, not a psychologist, so these blatherings are not backed by science. They are, however, somewhat backed by my junior high school journal entries.
Possible Reason No. 1: Childhood Hollie always said she wanted to have kids at 30, which is basically now because I’m 29-and-a-half.
My mom was 30 when she had me, and I thought it would give me plenty of time (after I planned on getting engaged at 24 and married at 25, of course) to live alone with my husband, who I sincerely thought would be Taylor Hanson. Childhood Hollie also wanted to name the children she had at 30 Laurel and Avery, which is apparently the first and middle name of one of Taylor Hanson’s real-life sisters.
Childhood Hollie was clearly a creep.
Possible Reason No. 2: My friends have ridiculously photogenic children and I can’t stop liking their pictures on Instagram.
If you’re my Instagram friend, I’ll like the shit out of your pictures. If they are pictures of your children, however, I will like the shit out of them and simultaneously squeal because OMG THESE KIDLETS ARE WAY TOO CUTE AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SOME TYPE OF WAY. The only cure for this is obviously to drink a glass of wine, have more feelings, and proclaim your secret desire to have an Instagram feed full of pictures of your very own baby.
Possible Reason No. 3: I never really felt a desire to have kids with anyone else, so this must be right. Right?
I was married, and if want to get all technical, I’m still married right now because this stuff takes way longer than you’d expect and sometimes feels like it will never, ever end.
But I digress. The whole point of my telling you this is because although I was with my ex for more than seven years, I never once felt compelled to have his baby. Sure, those warm, fuzzy feelings surged and risked bubbling over when I saw a cute child or when our friends got pregnant, but it was never a real consideration.
This is different. I want all the babies, but most importantly, I really do want them with James. I just wish I had more control over how -- or when -- to tell him that.
So there you have my self-diagnosis of sorts, and in reality, my drinking and baby-wanting is probably a combination of all those things, among others. Darn you, Taylor Hanson, for already having five children of your own with another lady.
Usually I end posts with, “Anybody else out there who can relate?” but in this case, I already know I’m not alone. A quick and (not) super scientific poll of my friends tells me that this is a common phenomenon, and it happens in a lot of different ways. After all, how many of you drunkenly make future plans with fellow bar patrons you’re probably never going to see again? Open a bottle of wine when you shop online, only to buy all the things you never knew you needed?
And, oh yes, the babies. Squee! So let’s resurrect the old, “Anybody else out there who can relate?” question and tell me…do you tell (or pressure) your partner about kids when you drink?