Baby Steps

I recently received notice from my condo association that I am not permitted to renew my lease next February because I have a dog who has been living here “illegally.” I obviously knew this was a possibility, but I also thought I might be able to slip by. My landlord doesn’t care about the dog. It’s only the condo commandoes, and there are a million other dogs in the development. I pay my not cheap rent on time every month, so why would anyone care? No such luck.

This seriously bums me out. I love living here for a number of reasons. (1) My closet is heavenly. It’s so big that I have to use a step stool to reach half the stuff in it. (2) It’s convenient to everything, including work and doggie day care, a.k.a. Grandma and Grandpa. (3) It’s big enough for me to play fetch with the dog while lying comfortably on the sofa. (4) The layout is perfect. All of my belongings fit perfectly, with room to spare. (5) This is the first place I’ve had all to myself in over seven years, so I’m pretty attached to it. Lastly, I really can’t think of too many things worse than moving. But I’m determined to stay positive.

As cliché as it sounds, when I read the letter from the condo association, I thought to myself, maybe this is for a reason. Everything always falls into place, right? And who knows where I’ll be in six months. I may want to move. I could have a new job where this place won’t be so convenient or I may fall in love and move in with someone. It could be the universe telling me that bigger and better things are coming my way and I refuse to spend too much energy thinking about it.

But yesterday I surprised myself. I found myself, on the way out the front door, pondering the possibility of finding a partner and moving in with him. The surprising part was when I realized, even before I made it to my car, I don’t want to move in with anyone. I’m very content where I am. I love living alone. I’m comfortable with the way things are and I’m not ready for anything to rock me out of this comfort zone just yet. I especially love that there’s almost always a half full bottle of wine on my countertop.

So why did this reflection surprise me so much? I think it’s the kid thing. The majority of my friends are either having their first child, or already have children but are getting divorced. In either case, I always seem to be the only childless one. Some of my friends secretly envy me at times, but I really want kids. My good friends know how I feel so whenever the conversation comes up, everyone tells me it will happen in its own time and when it does I’ll be a wonderful mother. I halfway believe them. But mostly I yearn for the time when there are tired toddlers running around and baby toys mixed with bedtime stories all over the floor.

I’ve been thinking for months that I’m ready, but apparently I’m not. This is very welcome news. It will happen in its own time and when it does, I will be an amazing mom, whether I have children of my own, stepchildren or adopted ones. Why was I in such a rush? Probably because society says I should be married with kids by now, if I’m anywhere near normal. But I have to remember that I chose to step off that well-worn track for a very good reason. I could have chosen to have children with my ex, but that would have been very wrong for all of us.

So what’s next? I have no idea. Just the feeling that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be right now is enough. That’s the whole reason I decided to end my marriage and it’s working, one baby step at a time.