[Actual photo of a teenaged me working. My face suggests it was taken during science or art week.]
It has come to my attention (because some people can’t just let things go), that I may have overlooked one very obvious omission from my previous list of social encounters that make me uncomfortable: face-to-face interactions with children, babies, or anyone too far below the legal drinking age. While at first I attempted to counter this accusation, my internal reaction to news that a new-mom friend was coming over said more than I ever could:
“Wait. Is she bringing that baby?! YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT BABIES. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D RUIN MY LIFE LIKE THIS.”
Now, dramatics aside–actually, no…no ‘dramatics aside.’ Without the dramatics, I wouldn’t have a blog. In fact, I say we need more dramatics up in this B which is why I proudly stand by my knee-jerk reaction to the threatening possibility of baby time Or, if nothing else, I stand by my reaction because I know there are far too many similar cases to really deny at this point.
Last week my parents sprung two admittedly adorable and polite distant cousins on me at a Christmas open house (we’ll have to get into my mother’s particular blend of crazy that led to planning and hosting an open house with 36-hours notice some other time). Within three seconds of walking in the door, they were on top of me, kicking off a night of awkwardly running away lest my true colours show:
Cute kids: “Hi. Are you Stephen or Benjamin? Is that you in this picture? Do you live here?”
Internal Monologue: “EW. GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU LITTLE FREAK!”
Cute kids: “You can hang up your coat in this closet. And you should put your shoes here on this mat.”
Internal Monologue: “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM! YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
Eventually I gave them the slip by distracting them with the newf’s iPhone. That’s babysitting 4G-style, y’all.
Even this week the lovely Ally was telling me about her two-year-old who has learned how to drop beats on his T-Pain autotune microphone (watch your volume) and expects daily Michael Jackson dance parties. I mean, if there was ever a kid I could hang with, it would be this one. He has imaginary conference calls with Lady Gaga for god’s sake! But no…
This morning she reminded me of the epic deny I tossed her way when she asked if she could bring the little nugget to a barbecue at my place. Without being able to remember my exact words, I feared the worst. I imagined something like, “Sure, but the likelihood of me giving you a false address will increase dramatically,” or, “Sure, but I’ve never grilled toddler before.”
While neither was quite on the mark, you can be the judge of whether the real deal (copy-and-pasted from the original message) is better or worse:
Toddlers welcome although they cannot be my responsibility
also, Theo may try to take him down if he runs.
Yup. I agreed but also announced that I may sick my dog on him.
Children are the future or whatever…
{ 42 comments… read them below or add one }
While I can’t really relate to not wanting to interact with children (I am that person at the party who has to force herself not to ask if she can hold that adorable baby), I can relate to a similar sense of panic when people ask me about having my own children.
NOT ANYTIME SOON, KTHXBAI. PLEASE TO NEVER MENTION AGAIN.
They’re just so…to use a Ben (Tia?) word…efforty. I like to be able to hand them back off when I get bored/my arms get tired/they need something.
YES. We had the baby visit and after the first four times I had to wipe spittle off her face, I was all, “Seriously? FOUR TIMES YOU’VE MADE ME DO THIS ALREADY.” Way too efforty.
Babies are okay, for a minute. You know that feeling when you hold a baby chick or duckling or something, and its cute for a sec but you wanna sure you put it down before it pees/poops on you? Yeah, that’s how I feel about babies.
Pretty much! Except I think I’d rather little duckling poops than messy baby butt massacres…
Ew. That term even grosses ME out.
I’m sorry, but you can’t just drop that picture on us and expect us to comment on your story.
Because I look like such a handsome, model citizen?
I’m not a fan of babies either. When they get a little older (for example, my cousin is two), I think they’re adorable. But when it’s possible that they may throw up on me or do some other bodily function, I definitely avoid them at all costs. They’re strange, unpredictable creatures.
Nice picture by the way.
They’re just so breakable and needy!!
I love kids! I love that I can give them back when I get bored of them. (I was going to say “when I’m done with them”, but that was a little too pedo…) And once they learn speech I avoid at all costs until they refine it to intelligent conversation.
I have spent YEARS avoiding devil-boxes so they couldn’t steal my soul…I think that picture took a small piece of it. Though, in the spirit of fairness I’m considering sending along a picture of MY teen years, because I don’t believe in merciless mockery. If I’m going to mock I make sure that an opportunity of equal value is readily available. I will want that piece of my soul back sometime, though.
Hey now – that’s not even close to an ‘embarrassing’ picture from my teens. But considering you’ll never get a chance to mock the others, I suppose I can let you have this one.
Im still trying to figure out why I am choosing to currently work with kids. But I look at it this way….I can teach an adult how to shower, dress, and wipe their own ass independently. Or I can teach a kid to tie his shoes and give him the skills to ride a bike. Kids drive me CRAZY but they are sooooo much better than stinky senior citizens with broken hips am I right?
I really don’t know about that…
SAMESIES. Actually that’s not 100% true. Babies are okay because they don’t try to talk to me. Also, if they start screaming, usually a parent feels bad or embarrassed enough to take them off my hands and then, although there’s a part of me that’s all rejected as in “why doesn’t this small person LIKE ME? Why does this small person hate me so much that they start crying at the mere mention of me!?” there’s another part of me that can dust off my hands and be all “babies be crazy, yo” and then down the rest of my champagne. Because that’s how you hold babies, right? Baby in one hand, champagne in the other?
Yeah, but once those little terrors start making sentences, I have to start making new friends who don’t have children and/or ambition to procreate.
I’m not sure whether I find it better or worse once they start talking…I mean, on the one hand it suggests you can reason with them. On the other hand, they’re loud as fuck.
I have babies ( almost 4yr old girl who has declared that Darth Vader is her best friend and a 1 yr old little boy who still thinks I am the coolest lady ever), and they are great…but they are mine. I don’t like other people’s babies. And I really hate it when people are all “Here, can you watch my kid for a minute” just because I have kids. It like, “HELLO, I have my own…if I wanted to be watching kids flip out about nothing right now I wouldn’t have left them at home with their Dad just so I could go to the grocery by myself!!!”
I think that little rant of mine was in line with your post…maybe not, sorry.
Um…now, those babies sound cool. How do you keep them from growing up into jerks?
sigh…I don’t know!! I REALLY wish I did!
Totally can relate. I have no concept of how to deal with kids. They just seem to be demanding little creatures. Problem is, when I moved with partner, I got a 6 year old niece and he has lots of cousins with kids. So there’s like 5 kids I deal with on a regular basis. I still have no idea what to do with them, even after this long.
Oh dear…avoid at all costs? Just try not to swear around them? Distract them with television?
The cursing is much more straightforward. Happily I curse in English and things are straightforward. The iPod is my distraction of choice for kids.
I only like Eli. All other babies and children range on a scale from meh to gross.
But that’s because Eli is perfection.
Babies are terrifying.
Seconded.
I love babies! They are awesome. They are easy to amuse and easy to trick, because as far as their tiny brains are concerned, you are the smartest person, ever. Kids are good with me until the age of about 10, 11. After that, they become, hormonal, smelly whinny, pimply, smart asses. My goal in life is to have babies, send them to boarding school in Russia when they’re 12 and have them return to my care when they’re 18 and old enough to move out. Teenagers are horrible creatures. Your picture reinforces my theory.
Hey!! I was a DELIGHTFUL teenager! You hear me? DELIGHTFUL.
I’m sorry, I just can’t get past your awesome picture. You do not look annoyed AT ALL.
I was having a good day.
I love that you write these things, because then I don’t feel guilty. Because kids make me crazy uncomfortable. I don’t know what to do with them. Also, your camp counsellor face? I know it all too well from my summer as a counsellor. Other counsellor wondered why I got so much mail – it was because I spent all my free time writing friends and family about how miserable I was dealing with a cabin of five year olds who can’t work an effing broom, so send me mail or I will die out here in the woods.
Hahahahaha I’m just glad mine wasn’t a sleepaway camp. I would have died.
I’m a mom who fully understands the todder discomfort. My husband is like Chandler Bing around kids who aren’t his own. Next time you throw a BBQ, we’ll bring Hugh, his T-Pain mic and his Michael Jackson CD and you guys can rock it out before you toss him on the grill. It will be awesome.
DEAL.
Right there with you. And oddly, I used to like spending time with kids in high school but the older I get, the less I like kids. Not sure what that means for Matt and I, but I’m open to finding out.
<3 you!
Every now and then one of us will flirt with the idea of caring for a child. I feel it’ll be a delicate, life-long dance…
Yep. Ditto on the kid thing. I was at a family thing with my husband last year and his cousin thrust her toddler at me. Didn’t say anything, just wagged her baby in my face like I was going to freak out and squeal. I recoiled. Look away. Said “Hi, baby.” It was terrifying. Babies are scary shit.
Good for you! No more pandering to entitled parents and their ‘gifted’ children!
I used to feel much that same way.
But then I had one, and she’s the only person I like 100%.
(enter jokes about the other 99% here.)
And THEN I discovered that babies are just like tiny drunk people. You know, loud, clumsy, and unreasonable. And that’s something you should be able to relate to, Blanche. Google “las palmas”… You’ll see what I mean.
100%…REALLY? I betcha there’s at least a couple seconds a day that you’re all, “GIRL. HANDLE YO SHIT.” Or at least that’s what I imagine in my head when it comes to your life now.
Basically, it boils down to this: I made her, and *I* can clearly do no wrong. Thus she is a perfect angel baby genius whose very farts are symphonic and awe-inspiring.
And everyone else can suck it.
PLUS, she has perfected the stank-face, which you know is my criteria for all members of my entourage.
How could one not be impressed with a tiny mini-me who has her OWN version of “GIRL HANDLE YO SHIT” down in one patented look? ANGEL GENIUS BABY.
I am not very good with babies or children! I have no desire to reproduce until I have finished up with my schooling (which at the earliest will be 28), and I am terrified that I am going to be a horrible mother. My fiancee wants three kids, but there is NO way that is happening!
You know, I obviously can’t relate due to the implications that my gaytownery has on my reproductive abilities, but I gotta believe that it’s different when they’re yours. Or at least that’s what all my mom-friends tell me. I believe in you!