|wJun 20, 2006|
Yes, Dylan is unfortunately neglected in this post. I have similar stories, but it would make the post longer than it already is.
Given my entirely non-existant love life, I don't think this will be a problem any time soon, but I really don't know if I could ever handle having children. My sister has three children, and I don't know if I've ever loved any people in my life as much as I love them. The kids yell at you, they hit you, you change their diapers, they stick their tongues out at you, but you know they love you unconditionally and you don't deserve it. And you can't help but love their food-stained faces and surprising sentence formation.
When Amelia was born, she arched her back coming out of my sister, and had some stiff movements. The doctors thought that she had cerebral palsy, and we wouldn't know for a few months whether she had it or not. I cried a lot during that time, when I held the tiny baby in my arms and wondered whether or not other little kids would mercilessly tease her for the rest of her life. When you hold a baby in your arms, you get really emotional thinking about how cruel people are to each other. How you say one sentence, and you can utterly crush somebody's spirit, or break their hearts. Actually, I guess the breaking of hearts is usually done with silence more often than sentences.
Anyway, when the people from the hospital came to give her a test at about 6-months' age or so, they told us Amelia was definitely not suffering from cerebral palsy (she gleefully swatted at the toys they offered her, and almost lazily rolled around on her back). Indeed, if you have met Amelia, you know that she is a very saucy 3-year-old. She has ringlets that cover her head. She thinks it's funny to hit her siblings and playmates, and also likes to stick her tongue out. Tonight, when Ryan and I went to Olivia's soccer game, Amelia said, "I toot at you, Jackie! And I toot at your friend, too!" (She didn't actually do this; just shouted it).
Yes, it is easy to love small children. When they were babies, listening to them cry made me want to cry. Now, when they insist on whining incessantly about having to clean up their toys, I have less sympathy. But the same feelings are still there.
This evening, Olivia had a soccer game. Olivia recently finished 1st grade, and is 7 years old. The soccer games are very casual - score is not kept (at least not officially). The children regularly rotate positions on the field. When not enough kids show up for one team, children from the other team wear tie-dyed shirts and play on the opposite team. In all honesty, the kids are much more excited for the treats provided at the end of the game than the game itself.
I will admit that Olivia is probably less "into" the game than some of her peers. She's more interested in catching my eye and smiling shyly than running to meet the ball and scuffle it away from the other team. She likes to be goalie, even though she doesn't always stop the ball. We regularly show up at her games, yelling things like, "Look alive, Olivia!" "Go after the ball, Olivia, get it away from the green team!" "Here they come Olivia, GET READY TO DEFEND!" Of course, when my mom goes, there is a lot more excited screeching involved, even when she accidentally cheers for the wrong team.
Anyway, Olivia was being goalie tonight, and the other team scored a goal on her. I couldn't catch what was said, but someone on Olivia's team was shouting at her, chastising her for missing the goal. Olivia didn't really respond, but just kind of averted her eyes and went back to the goalie. I couldn't believe how angry I felt - the teammate who shouted at her was what, 1/4 of my age? (The girl also felt bad about it after a coach/somebody yelled at her - I think she was crying, :( ) She can't even do multiplication yet. And still, I wanted to slap her face and put Olivia inside of a large, plastic bubble where nothing mean could ever be said to her again.
But then, a little boy with a #2 printed on his back screamed fiercely with blue eyes blazing, "Don't say that to her, whatever the person's name was!" And then my heart swelled as Ryan cackled at the soccer-drama. Little boy, who comes to Olivia's aid! I hope you all appreciate the usage of an adverb in that sentence. I never use adverbs. But, seriously, he did. He fiercely defended my niece.
Then, I asked Kevin what the kid's name was, and he told me - the boy just happens to share a name with a character on Battlestar Galactica! Now, it all makes sense. The boy is already this chivalrous - one day, he too will grow to lead the human resistance on Cylon-occupied Caprica.
So, anyway, the point of this post is to say that I really don't know if I could ever handle having kids. If I feel this emotional over little people who aren't even my own children, God knows I would be a complete emotional wreck if I ever had some of my own.
Current Music: Forget It - Breaking Benjaminscribbled mystickeeper at 11:52 PM
I love how I am portrayed in your blog. lol. The chillins were fun so thanks #####.
Lol, some day you shall be a scary soccer mom, Jackie :o
Ryan - at least I call you by your actual name in my blog, instead of 'The Whore,' as I am referred to in yours!
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