If you’re in Wellington, you should pop down to the Bluenote on one of the next two Thursdays, to witness the end of an era. Tyree, the incredible woman who hosts the Mad Genius Songwriters Nights is leaving to finish an album. Thursdays just won’t be the same. They’ve become the day I look forward to, my home in the city, the place I know I can go and speak my mind and feel supported. Yeah, sure, the nights might keep going, but it just won’t be the same.
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Warning: Iona, you might want to cover your eyes for this next bit. Also anyone else who is allergic to small children and/or maternal instincts…
I’ve been getting ridiculously clucky lately. Really, it’s very odd. It’s new and strange and slightly alarming. I’ve never seriously considered joining the breeder brigade, and when I’ve been asked I’ve said “probably adoption and not until I’m at least 28.” But now…
Perhaps it’s because several of my friends are pregnant, or wandering around with gorgeous little babies: even people I thought would never breed. It must be contagious, and I’ve got it. I want to rest my hand over a round belly. I want a small child to snuggle up to me, and cry to me at night.
I’ve started assessing every man I meet based on his genetic potential. “He’s tall, which is good, and obviously bright. No glasses. Do you think musical talent is hereditary? And Oh My God his hair! I want a baby with curly hair.” No doubt if any of the guys in question could read my thoughts they’d run a mile and then another 80 miles without stopping for breath.
But my new thoughts about men aren’t the most alarming thing. It’s the way I see babies that worries me. Instead of going “oooooh isn’t he cute,” these days I go “He’s adorable… he’s perfect. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s mine. What’s that woman doing holding my baby? Give him back, now!” One of these days I’m scared the urge to have a child will overpower me, and I’ll just grab one and run. At a birthday party recently two of my cousins were joking about giving away their son to a good home. He’s adorable, about two years old, part Maaori with a halo of light brown curls. Instead of laughing at the joke with everyone else, I started trying to work out how I could fit is bed into one of my rooms, and where he could go to kindergarten. Yikes!
What the hell is going on with me? Is it hormones? Is it spring? Is it going to go away? My mind still wants to keep studying, working, see some more of the world… but my emotions are just screaming, “Want. Baby. Now.”
I wonder if guys go through this? A lot of them seem to be more interested in the production rather than the maintenance end of the process...
Posted by Fionnaigh at September 12, 2003 05:46 PMI know the perfect cure for that particular disease. Try spending a wet winter's week shut in a house with three sick children under the age of five.
Not the kind of sick children who lie angelically in their beds with adorably flushed cheeks, oh no, the kind of sick children who hate you, hate the world, hate each other, and will burst into tears if anyone comes within five feet of them. Except of course when they need someone to wipe their snot on. Or their diarrhoea-dripping nappy needs changing.
Cured me for life.
Posted by: Sarah at September 12, 2003 06:38 PMNope, no good. Done the sick children thing, complete with diarrhoea, vomitting, whining... Wasn't pleasant at the time, but didn't put me off.
This worries me.
Posted by: Fi at September 13, 2003 02:00 PMYou obviously just haven't met the right sick children...want me to hook you up? Actually I probably shouldn't go round the web offering other people's children to strangers.
And who knows, maybe you're just destined to go over to the dark side and become a breeder?
Posted by: Sarah at September 13, 2003 03:05 PMNoooooo! Where did it all go wrong? I'm still hoping it's some weird chemical thing; one of my friends thinks I ODed on sulphur when I was in Rotovegas, and that's got something to do with it. I'm still looking for an antidote. Not that I never want to have children, I don't really know. But the rational part of me is still saying, now is really NOT a good time.
Posted by: Fi at September 13, 2003 04:16 PMDude its non-reversable. I long for the days when I viewed children with hatered and distain.
As for assessing men as baby components - I've gone one step further. The father of my future child/ren is my buddy Dave. He is tall, I am short. He has a big chin, I have no jaw. He as a asmall nose, I have a huge conk.
What more can one ask for!?
Only down side is, the poor child will be very pale and undoubtedly a ginga.