Pandora's Box

Every one of us can pinpoint at least one way that our parents could have improved, at least one way they could have raised us better:

"My father abandoned me and my mom and brother when I was two."

"My mother was domineering."

"My father was an alcoholic."

"My mother was too controlling."

And then there is the ultimate insult: "You're becoming more and more like your father every day."

Or the self-induced panic: "Oh gawd, I've become my mother!"

But suddenly, contemplating having kids, I am paralyzed with the threat of the weight of responsibilities that I once took for granted (when the responsibilities weren't my own).

My parents had a meal on the table three times per day. I used to make fun of the fact that I grew up eating meat with each meal and now try to be vegetarian (the key word being "try"). But my parents planned our meals around the four food groups: meat, starch, vegetable, and fruit. Looking back, those meals suddenly seem much more impressive.

C and I are lucky that nurses in San Francisco get paid well enough to support our eating out every night. My version of cooking is throwing dried beans into a pressure cooker because the tacos I picked up as take-out turned out to consist of salad in a tortilla. AND I undercooked the beans, then proceeded to burn them when I attempted to put them back on the burner for a few more minutes.

Do I honestly have what it takes to raise a child - even as a mediocre mom?

As our couple's therapist tried to reassure us while in the midst of our debate on having children, "There are no perfect parents."

But can I go from falling asleep as soon as I walk in the door after a night shift without brushing my teeth to being a model of good hygiene for a new mind fresh to this world?

I send a loud applause to all who have been brave enough to set foot forward on the path of parenthood. Even thinking about it terrifies and overwhelms me!