When I was fourteen, my sister Skipper and I had a babysitting job. Our next door neighbors were going out, and our job was to babysit their newborn baby, Talia. Anyway, basically, the kid was easy. We changed her and put her to bed, right? She was a baby.
Well everything went well. Skipper and I changed her. We put her to bed and she started crying. The kid needed changed again. Who would have thunk it, right? Well we put her down again. Talia started wailing. We held her, we sung to her. Nothing was working. Our mother was next door, Thank God. She came over, picked Talia up, and gently rocked the child. She put her hand on Talia's head and said, "This is a sick baby." From there, my mother took over. She knew just what to do and successfully calmed the kid down. As the baby was able to finally sleep, I was like wowsa, having a kid takes work.
Shortly thereafter, a childhood friend of mine named Keyona fabricated a story that she was expecting a child. This turned out to be a pitiful cry for attention as well as a complete lie. The following year, a girl in my freshmen class got pregnant. Like many a desperate teenage girl in trouble, she tried to hide it all under baggy clothes. When someone asked her what she was going to do she responded, "I am never going to tell my parents, EVER!"
My hometown of course was ruled by iron fisted Fundamentalist Christians. Through protesting, they got the school to have abstinence speakers instead of Sex Ed. As a result, our pregnancy rate rose. We didn't know about condoms or birth control. Instead, it was just say no. Of course there were the girls who wore the promise rings. One such alumna of this trend was a cheerleader type who got knocked up by a football player. He was a troll looking dude and he got her pregnant with twins. They had to admit this in front of their youth group, their sin. And then he had the nerve to ask if the kids were his. Ouch.
Before I went away to college, my mother sat me down. She said she wanted to talk about sex. Some of my friends had parents who were progressive enough to put them on the pill. I thought perhaps my mom was doing the same. Instead, my mom sat me down and said, "If some boy wants to have sex with you, and you are in the moment. Think of all you worked for. Think of how getting pregnant will ruin your life. Think of how getting pregnant will make you fat. See my face over his shoulder."
When I was nineteen in my first semester of college some idiot boy invited me to his room to watch television. I was so naive I really did think we were watching a movie. Next thing I know we are sitting on his bed and he is putting the moves on. That is when I saw my mother's face. Not only was it scary, but it ruined the whole experience. I don't know what was worse, disobeying my mother or the thought of her watching me get it on with some zit faced dork. Either way, I pushed him off of me and ran like I saw Godzilla. I will never forget the stunned look on his face. After that he told everyone I was crazy. Even now, when former classmates of mine trash me online they say I am crazy. I have a feeling he helped sprout the genus of that rumor.
The older I have gotten, the more I realize men are driven like slaves by sex. I used to blame them for it, but now I blame biology. Whenever I think of screwing up my life with the wrong person who might feel good for a minute, I see my mother over my shoulder. I also think of the girl from my freshmen class who went into labor and had her parents find out at that moment. I also remember the baby daddy, who went to jail and is not a part of his kid's life. In there I also hear the faint cry of our next door neighbor baby, and my sister and I not knowing how to take care of her. I still can feel the relief of my mother next door knowing what to do.
So when it comes to kids I like them. But ah, not sure I am ready to have one just yet.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Well everything went well. Skipper and I changed her. We put her to bed and she started crying. The kid needed changed again. Who would have thunk it, right? Well we put her down again. Talia started wailing. We held her, we sung to her. Nothing was working. Our mother was next door, Thank God. She came over, picked Talia up, and gently rocked the child. She put her hand on Talia's head and said, "This is a sick baby." From there, my mother took over. She knew just what to do and successfully calmed the kid down. As the baby was able to finally sleep, I was like wowsa, having a kid takes work.
Shortly thereafter, a childhood friend of mine named Keyona fabricated a story that she was expecting a child. This turned out to be a pitiful cry for attention as well as a complete lie. The following year, a girl in my freshmen class got pregnant. Like many a desperate teenage girl in trouble, she tried to hide it all under baggy clothes. When someone asked her what she was going to do she responded, "I am never going to tell my parents, EVER!"
My hometown of course was ruled by iron fisted Fundamentalist Christians. Through protesting, they got the school to have abstinence speakers instead of Sex Ed. As a result, our pregnancy rate rose. We didn't know about condoms or birth control. Instead, it was just say no. Of course there were the girls who wore the promise rings. One such alumna of this trend was a cheerleader type who got knocked up by a football player. He was a troll looking dude and he got her pregnant with twins. They had to admit this in front of their youth group, their sin. And then he had the nerve to ask if the kids were his. Ouch.
Before I went away to college, my mother sat me down. She said she wanted to talk about sex. Some of my friends had parents who were progressive enough to put them on the pill. I thought perhaps my mom was doing the same. Instead, my mom sat me down and said, "If some boy wants to have sex with you, and you are in the moment. Think of all you worked for. Think of how getting pregnant will ruin your life. Think of how getting pregnant will make you fat. See my face over his shoulder."
When I was nineteen in my first semester of college some idiot boy invited me to his room to watch television. I was so naive I really did think we were watching a movie. Next thing I know we are sitting on his bed and he is putting the moves on. That is when I saw my mother's face. Not only was it scary, but it ruined the whole experience. I don't know what was worse, disobeying my mother or the thought of her watching me get it on with some zit faced dork. Either way, I pushed him off of me and ran like I saw Godzilla. I will never forget the stunned look on his face. After that he told everyone I was crazy. Even now, when former classmates of mine trash me online they say I am crazy. I have a feeling he helped sprout the genus of that rumor.
The older I have gotten, the more I realize men are driven like slaves by sex. I used to blame them for it, but now I blame biology. Whenever I think of screwing up my life with the wrong person who might feel good for a minute, I see my mother over my shoulder. I also think of the girl from my freshmen class who went into labor and had her parents find out at that moment. I also remember the baby daddy, who went to jail and is not a part of his kid's life. In there I also hear the faint cry of our next door neighbor baby, and my sister and I not knowing how to take care of her. I still can feel the relief of my mother next door knowing what to do.
So when it comes to kids I like them. But ah, not sure I am ready to have one just yet.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
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