OK, no one ever tells me anything, so I always have to ask.
Since Sue Duhnym calls her child Baby Cynical, does this mean that Mr. Cynical is the father of said child? Inquiring minds want to know!
Having kids has reminded me of the vivid imagination I used to have when I was a kid.
My daughter, BabyGoddess, has got the most incredibly vivid imagination I have ever experienced. First, she’s a dinosaur. Then she’s a butterfly. Then she’s a dog. Then a superhero. Then a kitty. Then a guitar player. Then a fish. But since she’s usually naked (she’s three–she’s perpetually naked), she can go from one thing to the next with relative ease.
Several months ago, I came home from work and she was fishing. She had a little plastic bucket thing full of water, and a pencil & an eyeglass strap for a fishing pole. She caught a whale, a blue fish, a shark, and a red fish.
My son, BabyGuy, is only ten months old. But he watches his sister like a hawk. He thinks she’s the greatest thing since pureed bananas.
I am afraid. I am very, very afraid.
Uh, no. As much as I wish I could practice making babies with Mr. Cynical…alas, it is not so. Baby Cynical is Mr. and Mrs. Cynical’s brand new small-fry.
For all of you wondering about my comment on breastmilk…every ounce is like liquid gold. Sure, y’all can have a taste, but you can’t suckle.
You men.
It’s taught me how important every minute is. I have two girls. The oldest turns 21 four days from now and has been married and gone for what seems forever. My youngest will be 18 the week before Christmas and will be leaving for college in another state next year. It was only yesterday that I was changing their diapers, for christ sake. Don’t blink too often or you’ll miss it all.
I thought “guarding the milk” meant no midnight snacks for dad. That and protecting the purity, my ex wouldn’t take an aspirin tablet without calling the pharmicist first.
Yeah, the first time they say “Wuv you” is pretty moving. I bet my little dude wondered why he was being squeezed so hard.
I found out it was hard to let my son get out of my sight. I gave him the bike, but I didn’t want to let him go around the corner of the block. The first time I let him go to the store by himself, I peeked around the trees to make sure he made it OK.
It seems so trivial now, but back then it was pretty traumatic for me.
…I thought I was OK as a single and childless woman. Now I’m crying. I want what you have. If I were religious I’d pray I’d have it too one day. Heck, I’m praying anyway.
Being a parent has taught me:
To keep a diaper over his weenie…
That it’s harder than it looks…
I developed the ‘Daddy’ voice… the one that will stop a freight train in it’s tracks.
That I can put up with a lot of crap…
That I can clean up a lot of crap…
That the emotional trauma suffered is directly proportional to the joy experienced. They even each other out.
That the wrong choice for a partner is devastating.
That the right choice for a partner is profoundly rewarding.
Sleep is not neccesary to survive.
That I can wake up out of a deep sleep and make it into a child’s room in under .75 seconds. (when neccesary)
Lots of other stuff… but I gotta go to work now to feed the little buggers
Damn! Damn! DAMN!
Like others, I learned that sleep isn’t really necessary. Two kids 15 months apart resulted in something like 3 years of no sleep.
Being a dad has taught me to grow up and make more responsible life choices. Has taught me persistence. And taught me the true value of having a partner.
I’ve learned that my kids can wrench my heart with more fear, pain and anxiety than any grown woman or man alive.
And they’ve given me bottomless, unselfish pride.
Few events were more touching when my son came home from kindergarten and told me about the astronaut who visited his school, (a guy who was born and raised here and is now in NASA).
Teacher calls me the next day to inquire about my profession. Turns out my son was telling all his friends that I was an astronaut too. He thought so much of me and was so proud of ME, he wasn’t going to let a few little details get in the way of my being so cool in his eyes.
Made me cry. And again now.
[slight hijack]
Being a sister has taught me that you will say things that you would never say before the little kid. For example:
“We do NOT walk on our food!”
I actually said this to my little brother four days ago. I also have learned that when you say those things you usually wouldn’t say, everyting becomes “our”.
[/slight hijack]
I don’t know that I could even begin to enumerate all the ways in which my precious daughter has changed my life or all of the things she has taught me, but the one thing that pops directly to mind is the sudden shift in perspective about what is really important in life and what is not.
And ditto on the comment about wanting another.