Sunday, November 25, 2007

Sew my knees, please

I wrote the story below a couple of years ago and because I'm not in a tricking mood I'm confessing to the reposting not-to-mention that after all of this time I still feel the exact same way. Especially when I have a holiday like the one I just survived that included all the fun things like my family, a house full of crazy and a surprise visit from one of my brothers old high schools friends, his mail order bride and their 2 kids.

You know when you get asked a question you can't possible say no to? That's what I was caught between, a rock and a bitch place. I say no and I'm a crab not to be forgiven and my torture level would have gone to new heights. Say yes and my Thanksgiving gets further crapped up than it already was. So, when I was posed with the question if it was OK for this family to "stop by" before dinner what could I say? Hell no, keep that weirdo old stoner and his brats out of my house? Not bloody likely.

This dude showed up more than an hour later than he said he would which fucked up my plans to take my parents dogs to the dog park and shoot a bunch of photos to hopefully use in the photo-calender I'm making for my mom's X-mas present. When they got to my house we all said our hello's and the 7 adults tried to find places to sit in my tiny condo that comfortably seats 4.

The baby wasn't an issue and I didn't mind bouncing her around for a little while but the 3 year old was a holy terror with unresponsive parents that thought it was perfectly fine for him to empty my decorative dish of pot-pourri all over my coffee table then take a brand new candle holder and dump the 9 tea lights out of it before having a tantrum and throwing them all over my living room. About 25 times. All while his parents did nothing. NOTHING.

I finally put my foot down when he grabbed the stack of glass coasters I got whitey for Christmas last year and this little shits father didn't move an inch to physically take them away from the ankle biter while they dangled them over my brick fireplace. I told them all, I was a preschool teacher, I don't have a problem making a kid cry and yanked them out of his sticky hands.

It was so fucking ridiculous.

Anyway, I thought it might be fitting to revisit some thoughts I had on the subject awhile ago. Thoughts I still hold, maybe even more so now.


I've spent a considerable amount of time with both children and animals in my life, and particularly today, while being poked, prodded, bothered, bugged, teased, tormented, and irritated by my niece, I've come to this conclusion. I do not have a ticking timepiece in my loins wanting for an offspring to go forth and prosper. I yearn for a puppy. A dog. Any dog. In fact I want lots of them.

I do not have a biological clock, I have a dogilogical one. And that fucker isn't echoing through the halls with a gentle plink plink plink. It's a giant gong and it's shaking the mother off its foundation.

I've never been one of those girls who knew they always wanted kids. I didn't dress up my dollies and lovingly push them in a miniature carriage cooing and fussing over imaginary wet diapers and play bottles full of fake milk. I forced my cat into a pink dress with matching bloomers and Maryjane shoes amidst screeching and flying fur and chased her through the house yelling "kitty kitty kitty, pretty kitty."

I don't posses the ability to try and talk myself into it. The thought has always scared the shit out of me, even if I might, and I mean might have ever for a fleeting, minute, infinitesimal, weensy, pocket-sized nano-second ever had a slight cervical twinge to maybe one-day spawn, it was gone before you could say mucous plug.

This involuntary flinching of my fallopians has been reinforced by the gory and elaborate details I've been subjected to at the thousands of grueling baby showers I've had to sit through. O.K., maybe there haven't been thousands, but it sure as hell seems like it when you're sitting there trying to keep your knees daintily together and not loaf on some mother's floral sofa like the pig you really are while attempting to stifle the huge burp crawling up your throat.

And whoever in the fucking world thought it would be cute to pin a fake piece of shit on my $100.00 Nordstrom blouse only later to rip it off of me with shrill screaming of satanic glee shall I accidentally utter the word "baby" at a fucking "baby" fucking shower?? Oh yea, can I get a lifetime membership to that club please? I only go to those things to win the prizes, lame as they may be, and I don't care if you're 8 months pregnant. I'll knock your ass over to get that mini shower gel with the matching loofah.

By some twist of sadistic fate after I graduated from college I found myself at the head of a preschool classroom staring at 16 little grimy faces while they waited to be entertained by the one person who thinks kids are a pain in the ass while I said to myself, how the hell did I get here? But I took my job seriously and really got into it. I was a great teacher and most of the kids and parents loved me. But I tell you what. That's the hardest god damn job I've ever had and I never want to do it again.

I love being an educator, and plan on making that my next career move, but not the little guys. They can be sweet, but it was hard enough dealing with my boyfriend at the time let alone being the stand-in parent for thirty 4 year-olds all day long. I only lasted 2 years and I learned some valuable lessons. Among other things, kids can do a lot more then most people give them credit for, and they're a pain in the ass!

One of the things that bugs me the most, and this is hard to choose since so much chaps my ass, but I get this one all the time and I'm losing my ability to respond with patience and kindness. "But you'd be such a good parent". Even my MOTHER threw this one at me recently. MY MOTHER!! Maybe, yes, I'm sure I would, but really, why is it so important to people that we all procreate?

It's THE MOST IMPORTANT thing you'll ever do and I for one do not want any Joe Blow Dipshit popping out a bunch of babies if they're not sure. This is not a color choice for carpet people. I can't say, aw damn, I should have gotten the sand dune instead of the wheat field and order up another roll. I've always, always, had an affinity for animals instead of people. The only scene in Jaws I care about is when the dog gets whacked in the first five minutes. Damn you George Lucas! Damn you to hell!

Dogs are especially dear to my heart. Maybe I was a wolf in a past life (insert bitch jokes here, har har). My black lab Casey was the love of my life. I can't imagine loving a child more than I loved her. Ah yes, I know that there's no love greater, yada yada, and everyone with kids didn't think so either until they placed that squirming pile of goo in your hands, blah blah, but I don't have any other reference point so throw me a bone.

Casey was the sweetest, smartest, funniest, (yes, funny), baby girl that ever walked the earth. And I still miss her so much it hurts. By far the worst day in my entire life was the day I had to put her to sleep. And that even beats the day I was told I had cancer. Casey and I were best friends and she got me through some tough times. She learned new tricks right up until the end, even though she'd gone almost entirely deaf. That smart cookie learned sign language! I even looked the other way when she apparently grew 12 more appendages at night that all managed to jab me in the ribs and push me to the very edge of the bed. If I could just kiss her sweet head one more time...

I haven't gotten another dog because of my work/life schedule. I didn't want to leave an animal that, by nature, runs in packs and would be home alone and sad all day and in the worst case scenario destroying my furniture from severe separation anxiety. I would still love that puppy, but don't be eatin' mama's fucking couch a'ight? I vowed that I would get another dog if I had another significant other and we got one together, or adopt 2 dogs so they had a buddy to hang with during the day. (I'm a huge advocate of adopting adult dogs from shelters by the way.)

But all of a sudden, it's been 6 years since my Casey has been gone and wow, I don't have another dog. Something is wrong with this picture. So, today, as I was taking a walk in the snow with my mom & her dog, a friend of hers & her dog, and my niece, I felt my dogilogical clock ring louder than I've ever heard. We were walking down a trail, hard snow crunching under our feet, while our dogs ran like salt and pepper bullets back and forth.

My parents have a black lab mix that isn't that much fun. I think she is schizophrenic or something, but the other dog we were with was this big, lovable yellow lab. And I fell instantly in love. This is not to say that I don't love my niece, or some kids in general. They can be cute as hell, and funny and entertaining and I know they're all special. But I really think I'm meant to raise animals and not people. And that's O.K. So everybody, stay out of my uterus and I'll keep my foot out of your ass.

And future puppy, mama's on her way.


Lola Magnolia said...

Great story! Not so much about the misbehaving child, though. I truly wonder why some people become parents when they don't care to learn a thing about parenting.

Joan said...

I never have felt the need to have children either. I never noticed my biological clock run out.

I love my dogs. They are my children I guess. They are certainly as inconvienent as kids. Can't go anywhere without taking them into account. But there are many rewards:)

Joan said...

I never have felt the need to have children either. I never noticed my biological clock run out.

I love my dogs. They are my children I guess. They are certainly as inconvienent as kids. Can't go anywhere without taking them into account. But there are many rewards:)

BipolarLawyerCook said...

Amen. 'Cept with Kittehs. Lots n' lots of kittehs.

Anonymous said...

I love this post. I wrote a lot of the same thing over at my blog,, except, like BLC, with kittehs. "So everybody, stay out of my uterus and I'll keep my foot out of your ass." That is my favorite line. I don't think mine's quite so bitter, but then you ARE Bitter Betty.