I picked the Girls up from school on Friday; finals are over, there's a week between now and graduation, and they needed a small break from the campus. Some how, on the way back on the Turnpike, we got on the topic of the Magic Bullet. Jordan commented that she wanted one for next year so that they could make sauces (cough, cough - mixed drinks) and such.
"You know, they make that now specifically marketed to people who want to make their own baby food," I said. "I kind of think making your own baby food is the way to go," Jordan said (at least I think it was Jordan . . . it's kind of hard to get the players right when you are going 75 mph on a road designed for cars in the 1950s). "I made most of your baby food because it was easier and cheaper than buying it," I added. "I think I'm too apathetic to ever have a baby," Shelby said.
When I thought about it a little bit later, I think I probably had a certain amount of apathy when they were little. Not that I ever looked at them and thought, "Whatevs . . . just sit there and do something with each other. I can't be bothered." But the whole baby-proof-your-house-within-an-inch-of-sanity was catching on, and truth be told, I couldn't be bothered with that. Outlet covers - that's about it. I've been in bathrooms before where I've had to ask people how to get their toilet seat up because it was either figure out how to use the baby-proofed lock or pee in the sink, which might have been easier.
A couple of weeks ago, their friend's mom had her second child, and that still takes me aback a little. First child: in college with them; second child: newborn. When I think about how much things have changed since the Girls were born as far as the gadgets and gizmos, I'd like to think that I wouldn't really alter how I approached motherhood . . . but I'm not sure if that would be true. Would I still sleep them on their stomachs? Yup. Would I still use an Infa-feeder? Probably not. No baby gate? Maybe. How about limiting television? Oh, my god, yes. A lot of what I did with the Girls I based on what my mom did with us. Is that pan hot? Here's a novel concept . . . teach your child that the pan is hot and will burn you. Don't want your kid to touch the shit on your table? Use the word no over and over and over again. Want your kid to read? Read to them and have books every where even if you don't like to read or consider yourself to be a reader. I know this might not work for every kid, but being slightly apathetic sure was a lot cheaper than buying the monitors that had video screens and heat sensors or covering every corner with foam rubber.
Even if your mom isn't a teacher as a profession, she was your first teacher. You probably learned all sorts of stuff that she never intended: how to let you win without making it appear so, how to cheat at cards, how to make something very mundane look incredible, how to stretch a dollar to an inch of breaking, how to make trips in a car fun, how to do a lot with a little. How do I know all this? I had a fucking brilliant teacher. If the Girls ever decide to have children, I hope they feel the same way.
Happy Mother's Day . . . to all the moms out there,