Of sick days, babies, and weiner dogs...
I called in sick today. I felt a bit ill but, in all honesty, I could have made it in. But this is my first actual sick day at the new job (since September), so that's not so bad. I still always feel insanely guilty for taking a sick day, even if I'm actually sick. That unfortunate Protestant-guilt/work ethic thing that I somehow inherited despite my thoroughly non-religious upbringing. On my mom's side, I come from a long line of Presbyterian Scots who believed that the purpose of life is to suffer. That, and to purchase items on sale. And then, after all that suffering, you're going to go to hell anyway, just for good measure. Or maybe in retribution for that time you got your own desert at that restaurant, and had the poor manners to actually enjoy it.
Ahhhhh. It was a cold, wet weekend in New York. This is particularly distressing since it had been beautiful all week - in the upper 70s, sunny, fluffy clouds, the whole thing. This was particularly distressing because my dear friend April and her friend & co-worker Amy came to visit from Florida this weekend, as a side-trip from a conference they were attending in DC. To put matters into perspective, April only brought one pair of shoes, and they were sandals. Because it's April (both the month, and the CPA with hippie tendancies). In Gainesville it's about 85 degrees this time of yeear. In NYC, it was rainy and in the 40s.
I'm really ready for winter to be over. Technically, it is, but somehow the weather didn't get the memo. Ugh.
On Saturday, we met up with Liz, our good friend from high school and college, who now lives in New Haven. She brought her 7-month-old baby, Charlotte, who is an example of what I call an "ambassador baby." One of those babies who's so cute and sweet and well-behaved, proudly advancing the cause of Babiness everywhere. The kind of baby who makes you think, "this parenting thing couldn't be so hard!" On the other end of the spectrum, on Sunday we went to the Museum of Natural History, where we encountered any number of kids who are the opposite of the Ambassadors; the kind that make you think the Chinese might be on to something with the whole forced sterilization policy.
I do want kids eventually. I think. I'm just not sure I'd be a very good parent. Maybe not a Britney Spears or a Bette Davis type mother, but no June Cleaver, either. Can selfish people be good parents? When I was a kid, one of my best friends had the kind of parents that some people accused of being selfish, because they went out every Friday and Saturday night and did whatever married adults on the Eastern Shore of Maryland do on a weekend. All the neighborhood kids would love to be invited over to my friend's house and watch cable (which nobody else had in those days) and ask the teenage babysitter questions about boys and sex. Between the John Hughes movies and the babysitter, I learned pretty much everything I needed to know about life by the age of 10. My friend and her sister, the children of the "selfish" parents, both have Ph.D.s, and are unbridled success stories. Meanwhile, the parents who sat at home and reviewed the finer points of grammar with their kids every Friday night -- those kids turned out ... well, like me.
Also, I'm still waiting for the maternal instincts to kick in properly. They're in full force when it comes to cats, and, to a lesser extent, long-haired miniature weiner dogs (especially the spotted ones). I've got to say that it's very comforting to see that Liz seems to have taken to the whole parenting thing like a duck to water, because back in the day both of us were bewildered at best, and frightened at worst by the concept of babies. Kids I get - I love kids. It's just babies that are scary. They need constant attention. In my single days, I encountered a few men who were like that, but you can't just break up with a baby for being too "clingy." Yes, yes, I'm sure you don't want to when it's yours and all that. I'm just waiting to go as crazy over babies in the park as, say, dachsunds. Of course, I don't want a weiner dog of my own because they're too much trouble. Which might be a sign that I'm not ready for kids.
Ahhhhh. It was a cold, wet weekend in New York. This is particularly distressing since it had been beautiful all week - in the upper 70s, sunny, fluffy clouds, the whole thing. This was particularly distressing because my dear friend April and her friend & co-worker Amy came to visit from Florida this weekend, as a side-trip from a conference they were attending in DC. To put matters into perspective, April only brought one pair of shoes, and they were sandals. Because it's April (both the month, and the CPA with hippie tendancies). In Gainesville it's about 85 degrees this time of yeear. In NYC, it was rainy and in the 40s.
I'm really ready for winter to be over. Technically, it is, but somehow the weather didn't get the memo. Ugh.
On Saturday, we met up with Liz, our good friend from high school and college, who now lives in New Haven. She brought her 7-month-old baby, Charlotte, who is an example of what I call an "ambassador baby." One of those babies who's so cute and sweet and well-behaved, proudly advancing the cause of Babiness everywhere. The kind of baby who makes you think, "this parenting thing couldn't be so hard!" On the other end of the spectrum, on Sunday we went to the Museum of Natural History, where we encountered any number of kids who are the opposite of the Ambassadors; the kind that make you think the Chinese might be on to something with the whole forced sterilization policy.
I do want kids eventually. I think. I'm just not sure I'd be a very good parent. Maybe not a Britney Spears or a Bette Davis type mother, but no June Cleaver, either. Can selfish people be good parents? When I was a kid, one of my best friends had the kind of parents that some people accused of being selfish, because they went out every Friday and Saturday night and did whatever married adults on the Eastern Shore of Maryland do on a weekend. All the neighborhood kids would love to be invited over to my friend's house and watch cable (which nobody else had in those days) and ask the teenage babysitter questions about boys and sex. Between the John Hughes movies and the babysitter, I learned pretty much everything I needed to know about life by the age of 10. My friend and her sister, the children of the "selfish" parents, both have Ph.D.s, and are unbridled success stories. Meanwhile, the parents who sat at home and reviewed the finer points of grammar with their kids every Friday night -- those kids turned out ... well, like me.
Also, I'm still waiting for the maternal instincts to kick in properly. They're in full force when it comes to cats, and, to a lesser extent, long-haired miniature weiner dogs (especially the spotted ones). I've got to say that it's very comforting to see that Liz seems to have taken to the whole parenting thing like a duck to water, because back in the day both of us were bewildered at best, and frightened at worst by the concept of babies. Kids I get - I love kids. It's just babies that are scary. They need constant attention. In my single days, I encountered a few men who were like that, but you can't just break up with a baby for being too "clingy." Yes, yes, I'm sure you don't want to when it's yours and all that. I'm just waiting to go as crazy over babies in the park as, say, dachsunds. Of course, I don't want a weiner dog of my own because they're too much trouble. Which might be a sign that I'm not ready for kids.
posted by Marguerite at 9:22 AM
4 Comments:
Maybe, but it really is different when it's your own kids. I didn't go all gah gah over babies either. I was pretty afraid of them, but once you have one I think the maternal feelings just kick in. Unless you get really depressed. It's different for everyone, but I think you would do fine. :)
Yeah, that's what they say - and the funny thing is, some of the least maternal/paternal folks I know are the ones who've turned out to be super parents & totally baby-centric. I'm talking about people who you wouldn't have trusted to take care of your ficus for fear that they would use it as an ashtray and give it beer instead of water. The instincts kick in when they need to, I guess...
You definately need to breed, let's just leave it at that.
However what I get now is baby pictures from all sides. From my family, from the prom queen, from the class president, from my realtor, from the girl that I always told from 10th grade on was BUILT to have 10-15 children and should complain that she can't find a pair of gerbeau(sp) jeans to fit her hips. The babies all look the same, they all to the same stuff, drool and piss themselves and gurgle and cry. I'll be proud of my future children when and if they survive my insanely authoritarian parenting, but proud enough of them for simply existing to send constant pictures of winston churchill who's face is a gooey mess of phlem?
What you aren't suppose to use the ficus as an ashtray or give it beer?!!!
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