‘How funny could this be?’ you ask? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, I don’t really plan these posts out. You see, Pam was just in town and I love the woman to bits. Pam is Jesse & Renee’s mom, and I saw her a whole lot this week… nearly every day actually. While it is no secret that my biological mother has had as much of a problem with trying to bring about any semblance of maternal instinct as Andre the Giant has touching his toes, Pam has this instinct, and it was weird. Good weird, mind you, but weird. I’m not used to caring mothers; I remember going over to Christine’s for family dinner one night, only to squirm awkwardly in my seat trying to understand the whole mother-daughter dynamic.
I will never be a mother, not in the old school lesbian “I’m not giving birth!” sort of way, but more so because I dislike children, and people like me should not be left to care for things like babies, or guinea pigs, but that’s another story (I’m sorry, Silky). I acknowledge this though, for a long time I didn’t even like people, let alone children; I’ve babysat twice, and it’s really not my scene. I can’t get children to do anything, and when children don’t do what I want them to do, I think about what made me do things as a child, fruitless promises of sips of wine and money. When I was babysitting, I was 14, so I didn’t have any wine. I did have money, but I was a greedy little bugger (plus paying children significantly less than what I would be paid for babysitting them is kind of like sweatshop labour in the babysitting world; except with air conditioning and SIMS). In summation, babies and I just don’t gel. I don’t “gel” with anyone younger than I am, really, though I’m sure that will change when I become a spinster and I start picking up women half my age (money will probably be involved, though they come back for the years of experience, or so I hear).
So what do I think of unfit parents? Yank those kids from them. Seriously, the child will thank you later, aspiring (or currently employed) social workers. Yank ’em. Now I feel bad for saying parents, because I do love my father very much. But if you know me well enough, you’ll know that he’s really more of a close friend than someone I’m forced to talk to because of blood relation. People will, eventually, build their own families, heck, if I can do it, anyone can. Pam is someone who has been built into my family, as have Christine, Jesse, and Renee. And I have to say, I love my family (the created one, of course). But being in a family is something beyond foreign to me, seriously. I don’t understand the dynamic and I’m really taking baby steps with these people half the time, but they put up with me, and my many mistakes. I can’t say I’m the best sibling to have, just ask my bio-sister, Sydney. I don’t know how to stand up for people in my family and defend them as family members, and that’s been one of the weirdest things for me to adjust to. Admittedly, I have some things to get over, but this post is all about admitting, and Andre the Giant, apparently.
I have said some things I’m not proud of about each member of my family, created and biological. Some of them were, if I recall, deserved. But most of them were not, and I know only a select few family members (and family members in the making) read this blog, so they may never hear this, but that’s okay. I apologize for not standing up for my family when I needed to and playing into people just to see what they had to say. I love each of you dearly, and that is the bottom line, it just took me a long time to realize that was, and is, the case. Sometimes, you drive me nuts, but at the end of the day I don’t know what I’d do without each of you.
Now, back to less pressing family matters. How many of you have stumbled across whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com? Because it’s kind of hilarious. I think I posted about it earlier, but upside of unfit mommies and daddies (never saying that again) in the Internet age is that we can make fun of them with LOL cat lingo. I’m always tempted to put my mother on this site, but I think it’s more teen pregnancy related, and I don’t have any pictures of her getting ready for a porn shoot with me in the background on a baby leash. Shucks, ma!
If you are reading this, and you happen to be an unfit parent, maybe you should be reading less blogs (by less I mean every blog other than mine, of course. I’ll add news headlines and weather and all will be well). You could spend the time it took you to read, say, this blog, to hang out with your child, buy them groceries, divorce your lame husband/wife/partner, search for a new husband/wife/partner on the Internet, or even work from home (taking pornographic pictures while your baby is tied up with a baby leash, or something).
In summation, don’t have babies unless you want them. And don’t want babies unless you can take care of them. Sounds simple enough to me.
In looking for relevant links, I looked though nine pages of LOL cat photos and stumbled across this:
It’s a wonder I’m single, really.