I Am Not A Parent. I do not propose to say what is good or bad parenting, because I haven’t been there. However, last night I thought about going there. I thought about a little chubby baby in a hooded towel, sitting on my lap, looking just like Mr. Jarbaby, and I said…
yes, I’ll take it.
But then I said, you know what, even though I’m 28, college educated, good at being a married human being, a good cook, a good housekeeper, relatively stable career wise, and otherwise outwardly prepared for motherhood, I don’t know if I’m EMOTIONALLY prepared. I don’t know if I have the sense of responsibility or maturity or psychological balance and patience that is necessary for the job.
Then I got on the Red Line train downtown this morning.
The Red Line train is packed at 8:00. And I was packed into it. But I had to be careful, because Youthful Mom had her four kids on the train. Two of them were sitting on the floor of the train car (The hygenic implications of which I cannot even begin to fathom), one was standing on a seat and one was in her lap. The children, ranging in age from about six down to two, were enjoying breakfast. What were they having? Each had a king size snickers bar and a chocolate milk! Fantastic! And also fun for the child who was smearing chocolate on the riders around him. The children sitting on the floor of the train car had a little picnic spread out of food, milk, toys and their own legs, which forced me to ride completely off balance, leaning forward to hold the rail, making sure not to spill my coffee on the kids who would periodically pop up and try to shove over to their mom, squealing and screeching, pushing people out of their way.
When others tried to get on the train, the mom would call out “Watch out for my kids.” Well, golly, someone should!
When one of the smaller children asked her what a sign said, pointing to it with interest in possibly, oh I don’t know, learning how to read, she said,
“I don’t know. Don’t read things.”
Great.
I’m pretty sure if she can do it…
I can too.
jarbaby