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On childrearing.
Mar. 23rd, 2004 11:33 pmOne of the crucial reasons I've been relunctant to begin popping out babies is that I'm terrified of becoming a bad mother. I've seen people I know lose interest in their kids and I don't want that to happen to me. I don't think I'll be a horrible parent but who ever does, after all? I'm sure no one plans it, but obviously some people should never be allowed to reproduce. I don't want to be like that, so I want to make sure I'm ready--even if my family nags until they're blue in the face.
So the other night, we're getting ready for bed. M is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and I've just laid down. I hear a string of expletives--I know they're expletives because they're in Swedish, and cursing is best done in one's native language--drifting down the hallway.
"Baby?" he calls.
"Yes?"
"I cut off my nipple."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did!"
I know he's making it up. He's just not the sort of guy who cuts his nipple off, trust me on this. He doesn't pierce, tattoo or otherwise mutilate* himself--this is actually one of the key things I find attractive about him. He had one misguided disfiguring moment while in Cyprus and the room was spinning around too heavily to reason things through all that well when he realized that he had a brand-new mole on his chest and, fearing it was cancerous, snipped the whole thing off, but there was alcohol and a good deal of stupidity involved at that time in his life. (I love you, baby, but seriously.) Naturally, when he got home, he happened upon pictures of himself as a child, the mole clearly visible in just the state it was when he snipped it. He is soo going to hate this post.
There is more cursing. It sounds a little more whiny than pained by now.
"What did you do?" I ask, exasperated. It's very very late, the bed is wonderfully flat and I want to be asleep already.
"I told you, I cut my nipple off!"
Clearly, he wasn't going to be happy until I got out of bed. I stood up and sighed--and then it happened. I didn't plan what I was going to say, it all just came tumbling out at once.
"If I come in there and your nipple isn't laying on the floor**, I'm going to cut it off!***"
And that's when I knew.
Being a parent comes naturally. I'll be fine.
*I don't dislike piercings or tattoos on other people, just on M. Don't take that line personally; it was just for effect. Except when you refer to your tattoo as a "tat". That drives me crazy. Please don't do that.
**The nipple wasn't laying in the floor and I found him trying to hide from me when I appeared in the doorway. You'll be happy to know that I did not cut his nipple off.
***Naturally, I do not mean to suggest that I will cut off my child's nipple. Indeed, I shall not engage in any snipping or tucking without good reason. I'm just saying, that's all.
So the other night, we're getting ready for bed. M is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and I've just laid down. I hear a string of expletives--I know they're expletives because they're in Swedish, and cursing is best done in one's native language--drifting down the hallway.
"Baby?" he calls.
"Yes?"
"I cut off my nipple."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did!"
I know he's making it up. He's just not the sort of guy who cuts his nipple off, trust me on this. He doesn't pierce, tattoo or otherwise mutilate* himself--this is actually one of the key things I find attractive about him. He had one misguided disfiguring moment while in Cyprus and the room was spinning around too heavily to reason things through all that well when he realized that he had a brand-new mole on his chest and, fearing it was cancerous, snipped the whole thing off, but there was alcohol and a good deal of stupidity involved at that time in his life. (I love you, baby, but seriously.) Naturally, when he got home, he happened upon pictures of himself as a child, the mole clearly visible in just the state it was when he snipped it. He is soo going to hate this post.
There is more cursing. It sounds a little more whiny than pained by now.
"What did you do?" I ask, exasperated. It's very very late, the bed is wonderfully flat and I want to be asleep already.
"I told you, I cut my nipple off!"
Clearly, he wasn't going to be happy until I got out of bed. I stood up and sighed--and then it happened. I didn't plan what I was going to say, it all just came tumbling out at once.
"If I come in there and your nipple isn't laying on the floor**, I'm going to cut it off!***"
And that's when I knew.
Being a parent comes naturally. I'll be fine.
*I don't dislike piercings or tattoos on other people, just on M. Don't take that line personally; it was just for effect. Except when you refer to your tattoo as a "tat". That drives me crazy. Please don't do that.
**The nipple wasn't laying in the floor and I found him trying to hide from me when I appeared in the doorway. You'll be happy to know that I did not cut his nipple off.
***Naturally, I do not mean to suggest that I will cut off my child's nipple. Indeed, I shall not engage in any snipping or tucking without good reason. I'm just saying, that's all.
