I'm Gonna Be A Bad Mom and Here's Yet More Reasons Why
(for the sake of my mysterious future children, I hope this is the last of it....)
Tonight I was at a family cookout, and I had an interesting encounter. I was wearing a groovy loose peasant dress my mother brought me from Italy (which will feature in another rant…Coming Soon! Stay Tuned!), and one of the guests asked me, “So how many months pregnant are you?”
Er. O_o The ‘so when you having babies?’ question had been flying around (with my cousin declaring to everyone that she had dibs on my baby shower) so I figured she was joking at first. But no indeed, she was serious. If it had been a guy, he’d have gotten a black eye. But from a funny little old lady I was fine with it. I just laughed and told her that there were no babies yet, it was just an optical illusion created by the dress and the giant brownie sundae I’d just eaten. The comment didn’t really bother me, because of my Reverse Body-Image Dysmorphia (I think I look better than other people think I should think I do.) It was what came up later in the conversation that I found disturbing. After mentioning to her that we wanted kids and a dog, but we needed a bigger apartment for both, she said, “You want pets? But one of the children could be allergic!”
I told her that we already had two cats. Her reaction was to basically inform me that if I kept them, I would always be worried every time my child sniffled, wondering if they had a cold or an allergy. It never occurred to me that I should think like this, as my parents had a dog when I came home from the hospital (Lucy, who at first hated me, then decided that I was a puppy and adopted me. That’s why I’m as uncouth as I am, I was partially raised by a beagle). In any case, I assume the course of action I should be taking is to dump my cats off at the Humane Society ASAP, in fear that they may somehow endanger the lives of the babies I have not yet had. Never mind that they’re dear to me. I found Terra in a cage at a pet shop, after the family who owned her got rid of her for that exact reason. I can’t imagine plunking her back in another cage, turning my back, and walking away. Of course, I guess I should also make it clear that my Kitty #1, Bonny, is not ever going anywhere. Ever. For any reason. If my mysterious future babies are allergic, then one half of the house will be Bonny’s, one half will be the kid’s, and we buy a ton of air purifiers. Bonny is my Bonny forever. This is her forever home. She owns me, I do not own her. And anyone who wants to suggest otherwise may wish to decide first whether a broken nose may or may not ruin their day.
Of course, I didn’t say that to the funny elderly lady. I told her that I was going to try not to obsess about sterilizing everything my future children might come in contact with, because I’d like them to develop an immune system. And growing up with cats will teach them humility.
Which I also decided I’d better add to my Continued List Of Reasons Why I’m Going To Be A Bad Mother.
(I’m not even going to number them anymore.)
…Beyond the cleanliness that’s basically required to keep a newborn safe until its immune system grows in, and to make a house comfortable and pleasant, I’m not planning on becoming hysterical about sterilizing my child’s entire environment. There’s a hell of a lot of evidence supporting the realization that our hand sanitizer mania is doing our species more harm than good, and keeping your kid in a Clorox Bubble actually worsens allergies and childhood asthma (I have asthma. I’ve done my research.) Plus, its exhausting and drives everyone crazy. I have anxiety already. I refuse to make it worse ON PURPOSE. No.
…Related: I will not get rid of my pets just because I plan on getting knocked up someday. The human race managed to thrive for thousands of years by making babies in huts with horses and dogs and pigs and cows and chickens and cats and yaks all milling about. When did the Typical American Family morph from: Mom, Dad, 2.5 Kids And A Dog To: Mom, Dad, 2.5 Kids, A Mass Of Hysteria And A Bottle Of Lysol.
(…also related: I find it funny that when I’m having anxiety over something, as I’m wont to do, people love to tell me that I’d better stop because ‘You Attract What You Expect’ and by having anxiety disorder, which is somewhat out of my control, I’m calling all my fears to me, and if they manifest then its all my fault. But when I talk about my opinions on child-rearing, everything is Yeah But: “Yeah, but what if they’re born with cataclysmic asthma, and they die because you have cats!?” What if they catch the ebola virus if you don’t boil all their toys every day??” “You want to have kids AND be an artist? But what if they have colic and cry every second, forever? HOW WILL YOU EVER MANAGE TO EVER WORK AGAIN!?”
Apparently I’m a bad mother because I’m not actively using the Law of Attraction to try and make my future children’s lives as miserable as possible. You know, because the Dark Side is strong with this one.)
…I mentioned the other day to a coworker that I’m perfectly fine with the idea of leaving my mysterious future children with their grandparents so my husband and I could go away for the weekend to a theme park. I had to explain that I REFUSE to take my children to Disney World until they are old enough to make it around the park mostly under their own power. I grew up in Florida and Disney was a big part of my childhood, so I've had time to think about this. No stroller-wrangling. No two-year-olds having a screaming meltdown because they’re tired and terrified of the guy in the giant Mickey suit. And no Mom sitting around grumpy because she can’t go on any roller-coasters. My parents tried me out first at SeaWorld when I was five to see how I’d do before we ever went near the Big D. Funny thing is: I’m considered a Bad Mom by some because I’d happily go to Disney without my kids, and considered a Bad Person altogether because I’d go to Disney at all. Bummer.
…That reminds me, whats with the birthday thing? I’ve noticed that a lot of parents try to turn their kid’s birthday parties into mini theme-parks these days (to which they are often required to invite the child’s ENTIRE class so no one feels left out) and I don’t get it. My parties were always 3 or 4 of my best friends, Publix cake, pizza, some goodie bags from Kmart and a movie in the VCR (usually something with a unicorn in it). When I turned 16 I was given the option of a party or a trip to Disney with my best friend. I was like, “Duh, Disney, no contest!” and that was it. Especially for babies, I cant fathom throwing anything more involved than dinner with the grandparents and a cupcake with a candle so we could get a bunch of humorous pictures of Baby smearing frosting all over its face. (Which will be used to embarrass said Baby when it is a teenager and starts bringing home dates.)
…Oh yeah. Dates. LOL. Working with children’s books, I’ve noticed that many folks are appalled by the Growing Up section. There are lots of (age-appropriate) books there for kids 5 and up about where babies come from, and I’ve heard over and over again: “Oh my god, that’s so young! I could never talk to my child about sex! How terrible, that they wonder about sex when they’re that young!” Never mind that a curious 4, 5, or 6 year old who’s Mom is pregnant with a little brother or sister is going to notice that something interesting is going on, and is going to wonder. As far as I can tell there’s something wrong with me, because that idea does not shock or appall me at all. I’m also not embarrassed by the idea of giving my kid The Talk. Though I’ve been called a prude because I think sex should be shared by two mature, adult individuals who love and trust one another and not used as a game, a toy, a political statement, a weapon, or a casual diversion. Seems like the basic plan I should be sticking with is: don’t mention sex to them at all until they’re 17 (because its sinful and dirty) and then don’t suggest in any way that they should only have sex in a very thoughtful, careful way with someone they love and trust, because that is prudish and cramps their freedom and creativity. This is known as the Cant Win For Loosing parenting technique.
And BTW, I’d like to do whatever possible to not become one of those stressed out, snappish Moms that I’m seeing everywhere, who look miserable and constantly annoyed with their husbands. Because I happen to think my husband is wonderful and hot and once we have a kid, I’d like to still be able to jump him on a regular basis for reasons OTHER than simply making another fetus. Which means…
…When the kid is old enough to be eating predominantly solid foods, the Boob Bar will be closed. Last call. You don’t have to go home, kid, but you can’t stay here. I know that the Breast Is Best folks will think that I’m a monster for not breast feeding until the child is 4 years old, but there will come a time when I will be BORROWING MY BODY BACK for a little while, thanks. I’ve heard over and over again that while you’re breast feeding, its hard to feel sexy because you feel like you’re more of a milk-giving thing then a person, and I’m not cool with that. I do not want to become a Mom Thing. I believe I should have control over my own goddamn body. Because I do not give doctors control of my body, I am pro-natural childbirth. Because I do not give the government control of my body, I am pro-choice. And because I do not believe that by having a child, I give up all ownership of my own body….the Boob Bar closes at two years.
Hmm. That’s all. For now. Starting the countdown to the next rant in 3...2...1...
Tonight I was at a family cookout, and I had an interesting encounter. I was wearing a groovy loose peasant dress my mother brought me from Italy (which will feature in another rant…Coming Soon! Stay Tuned!), and one of the guests asked me, “So how many months pregnant are you?”
Er. O_o The ‘so when you having babies?’ question had been flying around (with my cousin declaring to everyone that she had dibs on my baby shower) so I figured she was joking at first. But no indeed, she was serious. If it had been a guy, he’d have gotten a black eye. But from a funny little old lady I was fine with it. I just laughed and told her that there were no babies yet, it was just an optical illusion created by the dress and the giant brownie sundae I’d just eaten. The comment didn’t really bother me, because of my Reverse Body-Image Dysmorphia (I think I look better than other people think I should think I do.) It was what came up later in the conversation that I found disturbing. After mentioning to her that we wanted kids and a dog, but we needed a bigger apartment for both, she said, “You want pets? But one of the children could be allergic!”
I told her that we already had two cats. Her reaction was to basically inform me that if I kept them, I would always be worried every time my child sniffled, wondering if they had a cold or an allergy. It never occurred to me that I should think like this, as my parents had a dog when I came home from the hospital (Lucy, who at first hated me, then decided that I was a puppy and adopted me. That’s why I’m as uncouth as I am, I was partially raised by a beagle). In any case, I assume the course of action I should be taking is to dump my cats off at the Humane Society ASAP, in fear that they may somehow endanger the lives of the babies I have not yet had. Never mind that they’re dear to me. I found Terra in a cage at a pet shop, after the family who owned her got rid of her for that exact reason. I can’t imagine plunking her back in another cage, turning my back, and walking away. Of course, I guess I should also make it clear that my Kitty #1, Bonny, is not ever going anywhere. Ever. For any reason. If my mysterious future babies are allergic, then one half of the house will be Bonny’s, one half will be the kid’s, and we buy a ton of air purifiers. Bonny is my Bonny forever. This is her forever home. She owns me, I do not own her. And anyone who wants to suggest otherwise may wish to decide first whether a broken nose may or may not ruin their day.
Of course, I didn’t say that to the funny elderly lady. I told her that I was going to try not to obsess about sterilizing everything my future children might come in contact with, because I’d like them to develop an immune system. And growing up with cats will teach them humility.
Which I also decided I’d better add to my Continued List Of Reasons Why I’m Going To Be A Bad Mother.
(I’m not even going to number them anymore.)
…Beyond the cleanliness that’s basically required to keep a newborn safe until its immune system grows in, and to make a house comfortable and pleasant, I’m not planning on becoming hysterical about sterilizing my child’s entire environment. There’s a hell of a lot of evidence supporting the realization that our hand sanitizer mania is doing our species more harm than good, and keeping your kid in a Clorox Bubble actually worsens allergies and childhood asthma (I have asthma. I’ve done my research.) Plus, its exhausting and drives everyone crazy. I have anxiety already. I refuse to make it worse ON PURPOSE. No.
…Related: I will not get rid of my pets just because I plan on getting knocked up someday. The human race managed to thrive for thousands of years by making babies in huts with horses and dogs and pigs and cows and chickens and cats and yaks all milling about. When did the Typical American Family morph from: Mom, Dad, 2.5 Kids And A Dog To: Mom, Dad, 2.5 Kids, A Mass Of Hysteria And A Bottle Of Lysol.
(…also related: I find it funny that when I’m having anxiety over something, as I’m wont to do, people love to tell me that I’d better stop because ‘You Attract What You Expect’ and by having anxiety disorder, which is somewhat out of my control, I’m calling all my fears to me, and if they manifest then its all my fault. But when I talk about my opinions on child-rearing, everything is Yeah But: “Yeah, but what if they’re born with cataclysmic asthma, and they die because you have cats!?” What if they catch the ebola virus if you don’t boil all their toys every day??” “You want to have kids AND be an artist? But what if they have colic and cry every second, forever? HOW WILL YOU EVER MANAGE TO EVER WORK AGAIN!?”
Apparently I’m a bad mother because I’m not actively using the Law of Attraction to try and make my future children’s lives as miserable as possible. You know, because the Dark Side is strong with this one.)
…I mentioned the other day to a coworker that I’m perfectly fine with the idea of leaving my mysterious future children with their grandparents so my husband and I could go away for the weekend to a theme park. I had to explain that I REFUSE to take my children to Disney World until they are old enough to make it around the park mostly under their own power. I grew up in Florida and Disney was a big part of my childhood, so I've had time to think about this. No stroller-wrangling. No two-year-olds having a screaming meltdown because they’re tired and terrified of the guy in the giant Mickey suit. And no Mom sitting around grumpy because she can’t go on any roller-coasters. My parents tried me out first at SeaWorld when I was five to see how I’d do before we ever went near the Big D. Funny thing is: I’m considered a Bad Mom by some because I’d happily go to Disney without my kids, and considered a Bad Person altogether because I’d go to Disney at all. Bummer.
…That reminds me, whats with the birthday thing? I’ve noticed that a lot of parents try to turn their kid’s birthday parties into mini theme-parks these days (to which they are often required to invite the child’s ENTIRE class so no one feels left out) and I don’t get it. My parties were always 3 or 4 of my best friends, Publix cake, pizza, some goodie bags from Kmart and a movie in the VCR (usually something with a unicorn in it). When I turned 16 I was given the option of a party or a trip to Disney with my best friend. I was like, “Duh, Disney, no contest!” and that was it. Especially for babies, I cant fathom throwing anything more involved than dinner with the grandparents and a cupcake with a candle so we could get a bunch of humorous pictures of Baby smearing frosting all over its face. (Which will be used to embarrass said Baby when it is a teenager and starts bringing home dates.)
…Oh yeah. Dates. LOL. Working with children’s books, I’ve noticed that many folks are appalled by the Growing Up section. There are lots of (age-appropriate) books there for kids 5 and up about where babies come from, and I’ve heard over and over again: “Oh my god, that’s so young! I could never talk to my child about sex! How terrible, that they wonder about sex when they’re that young!” Never mind that a curious 4, 5, or 6 year old who’s Mom is pregnant with a little brother or sister is going to notice that something interesting is going on, and is going to wonder. As far as I can tell there’s something wrong with me, because that idea does not shock or appall me at all. I’m also not embarrassed by the idea of giving my kid The Talk. Though I’ve been called a prude because I think sex should be shared by two mature, adult individuals who love and trust one another and not used as a game, a toy, a political statement, a weapon, or a casual diversion. Seems like the basic plan I should be sticking with is: don’t mention sex to them at all until they’re 17 (because its sinful and dirty) and then don’t suggest in any way that they should only have sex in a very thoughtful, careful way with someone they love and trust, because that is prudish and cramps their freedom and creativity. This is known as the Cant Win For Loosing parenting technique.
And BTW, I’d like to do whatever possible to not become one of those stressed out, snappish Moms that I’m seeing everywhere, who look miserable and constantly annoyed with their husbands. Because I happen to think my husband is wonderful and hot and once we have a kid, I’d like to still be able to jump him on a regular basis for reasons OTHER than simply making another fetus. Which means…
…When the kid is old enough to be eating predominantly solid foods, the Boob Bar will be closed. Last call. You don’t have to go home, kid, but you can’t stay here. I know that the Breast Is Best folks will think that I’m a monster for not breast feeding until the child is 4 years old, but there will come a time when I will be BORROWING MY BODY BACK for a little while, thanks. I’ve heard over and over again that while you’re breast feeding, its hard to feel sexy because you feel like you’re more of a milk-giving thing then a person, and I’m not cool with that. I do not want to become a Mom Thing. I believe I should have control over my own goddamn body. Because I do not give doctors control of my body, I am pro-natural childbirth. Because I do not give the government control of my body, I am pro-choice. And because I do not believe that by having a child, I give up all ownership of my own body….the Boob Bar closes at two years.
Hmm. That’s all. For now. Starting the countdown to the next rant in 3...2...1...