Day 74: The Dogmother

I love this hat. And I hate hats. Well, I don't hate them, but I never seem to look good in them, they smash my hair (which, because it's curly, gets completely unshaped), and they make my forehead break out. Otherwise, they're perfect. I read a few Glamour issues back that unmatched is the key to looking put together. Everything is just a slightly different shade than its counterparts. As an ode to this theory, the grays are just a bit different, the black of the bag doesn't match the shoes though stays dark (keeping with the same colored bag and shoe rule), and the pale hues of the silk tank (which, by the way, I own in two colors and adore) and hat seem similar but just different enough. (Note: since a hat is considered a major accessory, I'm adding only a delicate necklace to keep things uncluttered.) We'll call this one, "Voila, Glamour!"

Six days to go before the movie. I can already hear the tapping of the girls' stilettos on New York City concrete. As the premiere inches closer, I find myself scared that I won't get to write everything I want to write about SATC and the issues it raises. Ah! Only four more posts to go before the second film. These must be my final words on a show that has been my companion for almost eight months. Better make them good. No pressure.

So, a lot happening these days. No more casual dating for anyone and no more fluffy topics like whether to spit or swallow. Maybe it's about time. Samantha gets chemo for her breast cancer, which seems to be gone, and loses her hair. Smith shows his support by shaving his head. Miranda and Steve go on a honeymoon, leaving Brady with Carrie and Charlotte. Miranda finds herself restless and sexed out but appreciates the time with Steve. When they return, they decide to move to a much bigger house in Brooklyn, which Miranda isn't all that happy about. Carrie's still dating the Russian but discovers his not-so-gentle side when he keeps mentioning death during a discussion about Samantha's cancer. He also tells her that he has a grown child and doesn't want more children. Carrie has to decide if their relationship is worth giving up motherhood for. Charlotte's main focus is still childbearing. After she receives bad news about her most recent batch of eggs, she breaks down to a complete stranger in Central Park while cuddling the woman's dog. Some days later, she finds the same dog in a basket on her doorstep and rejoices that she finally has something to care for.

Ah, the children thing again. I've already talked about this subject a little--that a woman knows when it's right to have kids. But I feel the need to say more. At one point in this episode, Carrie mentions that she's 38 and thinks that if she wanted a baby, she would have had one by now. This is an interesting thought. Though I am ten years younger, I feel like I'm reaching a critical point as well. See, as I've said before, while I often contemplate having kids, I keep putting it off. My mother has been pressuring me for about six years now, and I keep telling her the same thing: "I'm not ready." When you're 22, that seems like a normal response. When you're 28 and a half (which, by the way, hasn't brought the success or stability I envisioned), it seems a little scarier. If give myself another six years, I'll almost be 35--the year at which a woman's fertility plummets.

Like Carrie, I have always wanted things to happen naturally: "Que sera, sera," or something like that. I always thought the timing for getting married and having kids would be like the changing of the seasons--something that happens peacefully when it happens, without really your permission or intention. But I don't know anymore. Do you have to make strong decisions at certain points in life, even if they don't feel completely natural or comfortable--like Carrie deciding between the the future possibility of motherhood and her great Russian boyfriend? My mother is always telling me there's no good time for anything (whatever that means), and if you wait for a good time you'll do nothing and be nobody. Wonderful.

Carrie also wonders if many women want to get married and have families because that's what they're told to want. In other words, do we want these things just because we should want them? Another interesting thought. I think about having my dog, Bela. Like Charlotte, I love having B mostly because I love caring for another living thing. It gives me pleasure to know that he depends on me for his life and happiness. And I spend so much time devoted to just that. Until him, I didn't really know I was capable of that kind of unselfishness (yes, he snuggles with me, so it's partly selfish, but he won't feed me like I feed him or pick up my poop, that is, if I needed him to). Every time I eat, I look to make sure he has food. Every time I go on an errand, I think about whether to take him or not. And even though he's just a dog, the thought of leaving him for five days with strangers (which I'll have to do soon for the concert in Montana) scares the crap out of me. He's my boy.

And the following thought has crossed my mind, however breifly: what if he really is? What if I'm meant to have dogs not children? Some people are very happy that way. In fact, as I recently learned on a PBS series about relationships, marital satisfaction decreases significantly when the couple has kids. It doesn't say anything about dogs. Assuming I get married someday, could dogs and my partner be enough?

Even as I ask that question, I know the answer is no. Deep down, like Carrie finally realizes for herself, I want kids. I do. I just don't know when. Maybe, just maybe, that means I won't get around to it. Maybe it means, like I always imagined, that my body, mind, and soul will know when the time is right (or at least when it's not not right, if that makes sense). Maybe I'll adopt when I'm older and more financially stable. I don't think any of us is ever meant to know the answers to these riddles of life. Time marches forward, and we march with it in one direction or another. But it's hard to know which direction that is.

As a closing comment, I had a random thought about this show the other day that made me smile. The four women are so different, and it seems I relate to parts of each of them during every episode. I started to think whether or not, all together, they could represent nearly every facet of womanhood in all its manifestations. Put another way, was every woman, at least generally speaking, a different combination of these four? Then it hit me. Four. The four elements. The four directions on a compass. Four seasons. Even the four gospels. It seems that all around us in life, balance is achieved in fours. Maybe all the book and show was ever supposed to be was a catalyst for conversation about what it means to be a woman--a conversation that, in the end, every woman must have with herself.

I hope you'll be back. I will.