I had my girl when I was 23, not too old, but also not too young (according to some arbitrary ideal of young and old), but you know what... it was too young. I'm not done yet, I wasn't ready for her and I'm still not. I don't have to wisdom or the experience to teach a little girl everything she needs to know to become a successful, strong and independent woman. I've not travelled or studied or gotten lost or fallen down.
I'm about to turn 25, my little girl is nearly two and we're starting to come to some pretty huge learning curves. Soon I'm going to have to teach her right from wrong, she'll want to know the answers to complex questions (Is there a God? Where do babies come from? Why do some people hurt each other?), how do I answer these questions? I don't even know the answers yet.
But I'm a grown-up, I have debt (yay) and rent to pay and electricity and phone bills and internet bills and groceries to buy and meals to plan and lunches to make and washing to fold. I'm too young for all this. I feel like I should be out getting drunk, wasting all my money and generally being a bit of a douchebag about things. I should be living, instead I'm in bed by 9pm and up at 6am (an hour before the kid so I can have a shower and a coffee in silence). A fun night means movies and pizza at home, not getting shit-faced and waking up in a strangers bed, God I miss that. I don't have chores, I have housework, and it never fucking ends.
i just want to run away. Seriously. I've thought about just packing my bags and leaving. I love The Boy and I love The Kid, but lately, it's all too much. they're just another two people in my life who ALWAYS WANT SOMETHING FROM ME. Mix that in with my, now weekly, panic attacks and I'm a time bomb.
but really.. that's enough whinging for today. Sadly my writers block is still quite blocky.