Having a flame

As progressive as we were attempting to be, I was the mother and it suddenly meant something. There had been this bond, you see, and it persisted in ways I underestimated. Because in spite of all our contemporary approaches to parenting, somehow, I was still the one to make all the hospital arrangements, and the one to sleep curled around our son the night before surgery. Now he was going to become unconscious on an operating table and as though bewitched, he would temporarily leave himself. But I couldn’t forget that it had been inside my body that the enchantment had begun. His first flicker of life had happened there and I’d monitored it when no-one else could. I have been the keeper of his flame his whole life, and the yearning to be with him as this flame was subdued and then breathed back was about the strongest obligation I had experienced.

From  Essential Kid via the author's blog. 

Blubbing as I pad.

Although I can foresee my fear when my 10mo inevitably comes under the care of doctors, one day, even now simply letting her be away and out of sight for an extended period, especially with non-family, is hard.  And bluemilk's "keeper of the flame" idea is what it is.  I keep thinking "But I'm the last one, the one she needs most, because I'm the mother."  It feels so selfish and grandiose (sorry Dad) but such a desperate responsibility, a weight I knew was I choosing with parenthood.  How can I do less than what she might need?

This post.

I do not know how to say why I like this post:

Well, having children changes you. Jonathan Coulton likens it to becoming a vampire.

I was having a conversation with a friend who had recently become a parent, and she reminded me of something I had forgotten about since my daughter was born. She was describing this what-have-I-done feeling – I just got everything perfect in my life, and then I went and messed it all up by having a baby. I don’t feel that way anymore, but the thought certainly crossed my mind a few times at the beginning. Eventually you just fall in love and forget about everything else, but it’s not a very comfortable transition. I compare the process to becoming a vampire, your old self dies in a sad and painful way, but then you come out the other side with immortality, super strength and a taste for human blood. At least that’s how it was for me. At any rate, it’s complicated.

Maybe tongue in cheek, but not that far from the truth, honestly. Your children, they ruin everything in the nicest way.

Before Henry was born, I remembered Scott Hanselman writing this odd blurb about being a parent:

You think you love you wife when you marry her. Then you have a baby and you realize you'd throw your wife yourself under a bus to save your baby. You can't love something more.

Nuts to that, I thought. Hanselman's crazy. Well, obviously he doesn't love his wife as much as I love mine. Sniff. Babies, whatever, sure, they're super cute on calendars, just like puppies and kittens. Then I had a baby. And by God, he was right. I wouldn't just throw myself under a bus for my baby, I'd happily throw my wife under that bus too – without the slightest hesitation. What the hell just happened to me?

from Jeff Atwood. Read all the words!

That post: Sniff. [wipe tear]

Why can't I lie?

Oh, don't worry - I don't presume myself to be some noble saint who cannot utter a fib. I'm not going through some voodoo honesty spell.
I do lie, but its useless lying. It's to embellish stories, or to make things sound better. Occasionally I lie to get my own way, or to make myself seem less wrong. I'm pretty sure I keep those lies to errors that affect only me* and to protect my pride. I'm usually afraid of being wrong.

But there is a kind of lying that I haven't mastered and I am shitty with myself for it. I think it's the most useful - nay, benevolent & generous - kind of lying there is. Why I, with my gloriously paltry drama background, cannot master this, a gift of friendship and affection, is beyond me.

Sometimes, I can't lie to be nice.

Don't get me wrong - I don't think I'm heartless - I can easily, willingly, happily, without any effort at all, find positive or complimentary things to say about gifts, situations, and such, or ask relevant questions about the topic at hand to show I'm listening and I care. None of that is lying. I laugh, smile, nod etc to politely play may part in a conversation. That's 99.5% of the time. Of course, I always say thank you, ask how people are - I don't think I'm dysfunctional or challenged in regular everyday interactions.

But there are a few times when I find it really hard to simply look pleased when I'm not. There's a part of my brain that says "That just isn't true. You don't like this gift. It's well made, and alright quality, and it's [insert good quality here] - say those things, remember the thought counts - but don't say you love it or like it because, right now, that's a lie and lying is wrong."
Now, I think I might be getting better at this. (Does this mean I'm regularly getting not-very-good gifts? Hmm...) When I get buttons made of stone, quirky dust-catchers, or something that actually suits the buyer more than the receiver, I can usually make a generic positive sound that says "You thought of me/my birthday when you were far away! I love that! How lovely!" (which I truly mean) while a little teeny part of my brain says "This made you think of me?"

Similarly, sometimes I fail to convincingly keep eye contact, raise eyebrows or nod when people tell stories. This happens when I'm thinking "This is not a nice/interesting/funny story", "This isn't something I want or am supposed to hear" or "This sounds untrue."
I tend to do this mostly in the company of people I've spent too much time with, or people I don't respect (which I suppose means I'm not worried if they're put out for a while).
I'm sure I've seen people do this, or something like it, to me. My first thought is "I'm talking about myself too much again." (No! Really? Gee, Blogger, that's uncharacteristic!) But really, it could be anything - they're thinking of something else, something they've forgotten, who knows. I suppose, the people I do this to might assume the same thing, but I could make it so they needn't have to imagine excuses.

But this is all I'd need to do:

• say "Wow! I love it! Thank you so much!"
• nod or raise my eyebrows and smile
• occasionally say 'Huh!"

Pretty simple, yes?**

And I would be a much nicer, although slightly less honest, person.

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Stay tuned for my next post: "Why am I neurotic? One woman's suspicion that she's having normal social interactions"
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* And possibly my husband. For instance, "I meant to do that this morning!" (no, completely forgot, but I don't care to be in trouble for that thanks) or I'll make up a reason that didn't exist at the time. I think it's because I think he's really smart, and I don't want him to think I've done something silly, which is stupid because people should be allowed to forget and make mistakes sometimes. I'm usually very defensive if he is patronising or jokey about me being 'dumb'. He's not being mean, just not-very-funny at a not-very-good time i.e. when I'm not in the goddam crapping mood.

** God willing, matching the response with an appropriate situation. Wouldn't be opening a present and saying "Huh!" too often... oh, God, I hope I haven't....