March theme: lists
Stuff on my mind:
1. If I have a kid, will my entire identity begin to revolve around my child? Will I begin to adopt screen names that reflect that I am someone’s mom? Will my blog have a picture of my kid, but not me? Will all my blog postings be about the kid in some way?
2. I picked The Blind Assassin back up, and although it’s been slow going these first 200 pages, for some reason, it’s picking up steam for me, and I am looking forward to each opportunity to crack it open. Ms. Atwood’s writing has begun to resonate with me: “More and more I feel like a letter–deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one.” If you haven’t felt like that, you’re lucky, I think.
3. I read a somewhat interesting interview with Johnny Depp in one of my trashy magazines. He described his role as a parent as protecting his kids from the ugliness and hardness of this world.
This might be a luxury he can afford. In all probability, his kids won’t have to worry much for money or things. They may never have to seriously contemplate homelessness, or make a decision between buying food or some other neccessity. If the whole world could be like that, I’d say, right on. Let your kids be innocent forever.
I view my role as a parent as very different, however. I think my job is to show my kid the world. I want my kid to know that some people have it way better, and some people can’t find drinking water. The world is a spectrum, and I want my kid to have some understanding of that. I view my role as a mentor of sorts–if I’ve done my job well, I’ve introduced the kid to the world, and given them the skills to make good decisions. But, the understanding is that the kid will make their way into the world. Please, God, do not let me be the clingy, guilt-inducing parent. I understand that parenting is epic amounts of love, and that it is difficult to send your most prized possession out into the world . . . but the thing about kids, I think, is that they aren’t really possessions. They are their own people in there.
Don’t misunderstand me–I’m not going to sit my 5-year old down for a viewing of Requiem for a Dream to get a nice visual going for the dangers of heroin addiction. I’ll wait til 13 or 14. (If you haven’t seen it, it’s a very good movie, but hard, brutal.)
I’m just a fan of providing information. If I had a kid, we’d live here in Chicago, where that spectrum is unavoidable. Stop by Starbucks for your fancy latte, and there might be a junky in one of those big overstuffed armchairs being revived by 911 personnel. There’s a huge homeless population here that doesn’t stay neatly in their shelters. There are all kinds of people who seem to be just on the edge of a psychotic break who use public transportation. I think most people are dealing with some kind of issue; what’s different is how it manifests itself.
My point, however much I wander around it, is that there is a lot of weirdness and “ugliness,” and it just is what it is. It’s wrong of me to even call it weirdness. It just is. There’s just a lot of difference here.
So, we could take refuge in Indiana, where the difference is subverted, pushed under, so we can all pretend it doesn’t exist, or we can acknowledge it.
Because along with the different stuff we might categorize on the left side of the spectrum, there’s also wicked cool stuff, like sleepovers at the Field Museum–as a kid, wouldn’t it be cool to spend the night under a T-Rex?? And Shedd Aquarium, and the Art Institute, and a vibrant grass-roots artist community here. I want my kid to grow up surrounded by all the possibilities that this world represents. They can grow up to be a finance guru, or a sculptor, or maybe my kid will learn to swim through the parks department and become an Olympian. Hopefully, I give the kid the tools to choose the things that make us productive, happy, self-fulfilled people instead of the heroin addict.
Has it already begun? Has parenting already pervaded my consciousness? I suppose it’s inevitable to a certain degree . . . I’m already terrified that I am going to mess someone up for life, that my parenting theories are basically garbage, and I’m going to be solely responsible for turning my kid onto drugs, and they won’t even graduate from high school . . .
What if my kid doesn’t want to go to college? I love learning so much, this would pain me greatly, I think.
Sending other people's children away to fight a "war."
