I recently visited the neighbor girl that used to baby sit
me as a kid. She is married and lives with her husband in San Francisco. They
brought their lil man Hudson. It was the big visit to Grandma and Grandpa in
Pittsburgh. Hudson was the cutest little man. Well behaved, he was a keen
observer. We gave him a Winnie the Pooh stuffed bear. Usually at that age,
Winnie the Pooh is the big staple. It’s not scary and plus he won’t swallow
anything. At eight months, Hudson is a fearless explorer like the river named
after the British pathfinder. This Christmas, one of his discoveries was tissue
paper. To Hudson, tissue paper is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
Actually, it may even be better.
To attract him to the Winnie the Pooh bear, his possible
future sleeping companion when he goes through the Boogey Man phase, his father
shook the red tissue paper in the bag. Hudson, fascinated and ready for
adventure, crawled towards the bag and tugged at the paper until it came out.
There was more, and it would be work. So his father simply removed the rest of
it and gave his little man the bear.
As old and jaded as I am, I couldn’t imagine being that
small. I couldn’t imagine tissue paper being the world of the unknown, the
exotic. I couldn’t imagine the world being so big. But I guess when you are
crawling it is big and dangerous, and dogs are probably giant scary creatures
as big as a T-Rex.
As Hudson went for the bear, crawling on all fours, the
first stage of human development and ironically like the stuffed creature who
was his gift, he bumped his head. As he crawled he bumped his head again, and
again. Hudson didn’t cry. He didn’t even let out an inkling that it hurt.
Little eight month old Hudson soldiered on.
As he kept crawling he kept bumping his head over and over
again!
It was adorable in a way, because when he didn’t get it he
had grit and determination to just keep going. Although little, you can tell he
is a tough guy already. I gasped hoping the child wouldn’t get hurt. To Hudson
it was no big deal. He was learning to crawl. His parents were good about it
but I found myself having a small heart attack everytime he bumped his head.
Football players bump their heads, but they wear helmets. If I bumped my head I
would worry about brain damage and probably cry. In a way, Hudson is stronger
than most adults. But still, that is a lot of head bumping. Wow.
I talked to my mother later. I asked her if the bumping of
the heads is normal for children. She said it was actually very normal for
children when they learned to crawl, and that is why parents with crawling
infants put down carpeting and other padding so the little ones don’t get hurt
and that they can explore safely. For as cute as Hudson was, a baby can sure give
you a heart attack. They are high risk little creatures.
Skipper was quick to
point out that it made sense that a baby would hit it’s head learning to crawl.
It’s head was the biggest part of the makeup and the rest of the body had to
catch up. I asked my mother if she was prepared ahead of time for this as the
oldest of six, her being seventeen years older than her baby brother. “No, you
learn everything the first time with kids of your own.” My mom said.
We talked a little bit about a kid’s first year of life. My
mom said that it took a while for a baby to sleep through the night. I asked
her why babies just didn’t sleep like normal people. Skipper said their head
was big, their body was little, and they had to almost triple their body weight
within their first year of life. That is a lot of eating to do so that they
could make those growth markers, and because their stomachs are so teeny they
by-pass food quickly so they need to eat constantly. My mom added that until a
child is two, if it doesn’t wake up on time you need to worry about things like
crib death. She told us that when we didn’t wake up at exactly the same time
she would panic. Babies are cute, but this is another way they give adults
mini-heart attacks.
We talked about pregnancy. My mom said she was sick the
entire time. I asked my mother why people did it more than once. My mom smiled
and said, “Usually it is by accident.”
Then my sister Skipper told me when she was delivering
babies in her medical school class with my brother Wendell-that less than two
percent of the children she delivered were planned. Skipper informed me that
many of the mothers insisted they used birth control. Apparently it does fail
two percent of the time.
Oh no!
Weight gain, morning sickness, painful birth, no sleep, and
then worrying if they might get injured or die in their crib in their first two
years are a lot of stress. It’s not like it gets better. That is just the
beginning. Kids cost money. You have to buy them clothes. You have to insure
them in case they become ill. You have to buy them more clothes when they grow
out of their clothes. You need to potty train them and not get angry when they
go everywhere. Oh and when they learn to talk and learn to say no they get on
your last nerve. Those are the times you want to send them into the woods and
hope for the best. But then you don’t. Part out of love, but partly because
Child Services doesn’t look kindly on the Hansel and Gretel parenting approach.
Of course there is school. There is not expecting a genius
because you probably won’t get one, but praying they aren’t too horribly
retarded. There are spelling words, math facts, reading books, science
projects, the dreaded parent teacher conference and PTA. Oh and then there is
hoping your kid makes friends and hoping they fit in. There is teaching them
not to be bully meat and then hoping that they don’t master the lessons too
well so that they become the bully.
Junior high is a nightmare. There is the whole clique thing,
the whole dating thing, the whole hormone thing. And that goes with a bad
attitude. That is knowing your kid will disobey you and disappoint you because
they want to be adult. But they aren’t adults, and yet the big, bad world is
beginning to beckon. It’s harder to get them to study and focus when some new
hit show in on TV. It is acne and the crying if it’s a girl or the fist
fighting stage if it’s a boy. And again, it’s not releasing them into the wild
during this phase as well.
Then there is high school. They aren’t as bratty. But now
there are new worries. They want to date and be unsupervised. You now run the risk
of getting an early grandchild. There is learning to drive and hoping they don’t
crash and hoping their friends are safe drivers. And then there is the whole
after school activities and finding what is right for them. There are college
visits, college apps, refinancing the home so you can pay for college because
FAFSA is a freaking joke if you don’t live in a box.
After that they go to college and you hope that they don’t flunk
out or meet their premature end during a night or partying. There is hoping
that again they don’t get pregnant, don’t get mono, don’t get sick with
something with you so far away. But now you are releasing them into the wild
and hoping for the best because they are over eighteen. The wild of being away
and new ideas. You hope they remember their roots, remember your values, and
remember to wear fresh underwear every day. You also hope you can pay for the
next semester. And you wish they were little again, but then you remember that
was no free lunch either.
The next step is the journey to adulthood, where you worry
about them being gainfully employed and finding a partner who treats them well
and doesn’t use them as financial support or as a punching bag. You worry about
them being on their own and hoping they are good people, at least you tried,
right? You hope that they don’t break the law because now they can really
punish them. You hope someone doesn’t hurt them. You hope they are making good
decisions. Hope is the key word here, because now you can’t change their minds.
And then when they raise their kids, they don’t want to
listen to anything you say. What do you know? You only had a few of your own.
But now you can be grandma and give them candy when Mom and Dad aren’t looking.
I don’t understand why teenagers just have sex and think it’s
going to be easy once they have a baby. It sounds like hard work and quite
frankly, horrific if you aren’t ready. I asked my mother why anyone wanted kids
as I laid out all the things you have to go through and how sometimes they are
a headache. She said, “Kids make you laugh and are funny. And Hudson is soooo
cute.”
Yes, Hudson is cute. Cute and a lot of work.
Kids are cute, and a lot of work.
I’m cute and I’m a lot of work. Ask my mom.
I think I can wait until I am about one hundred to have
children. In this day and age it seems nothing is stress free and safe, not even an elementary school.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
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