This isn't who you thought you'd be
27 Jun 2007 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cimoreneI earned all my income in high school in my church's nursery, managing the schedule and other workers and working practically every weekend, and babysitting for the few children I was really fond of (I've always been picky. About pretty much everything, in fact). I'm the third eldest of twelve cousins on my mother's side. I have never been one of those people who doesn't know what to do with babies or children.
My dad's sisters, whom you will have heard me refer to as Crunchy Aunt (Jenny, the mother of Perrin, who had me to live with her for about six months 2003-2004) and Crazy Aunt (Valerie, who married a genial pot-smoking giant and dropped out of graduate school in favour of a string of minimum-wage jobs because she finds them lower stress) are both the kind of person who have no idea what to do with children. I looked forward to seeing them with excitement because, being eccentric, they were cool; but I was shy around them, more or less because they didn't know which end to pick me up from. I always felt more at home with my mother's sisters, who all had children about my age, and whose houses were comfortable, and who had familiar food around. They weren't as cool, they were more likely to talk down to me and less likely to play with me, and even as a small child I was aware that I could beat them in a logical argiument. But they could substitute for my parents with comfort in a way my paternal aunts never could.
Obviously I always wanted to be like one of them, and not like Crunchy Aunt or Crazy Aunt. Except I think I totally have become the kind of person who has no idea what to do with children. Have I forgotten?
I dote on Carmela, who is a spoiled but articulate and utterly charming little urchin, but she's been stressed the last few months of her mother's pregnancy, I presume, and whiny and pettish and argumentative all the last several times I've seen her. Just looking at her makes me tired. I didn't play with her at all today.
My dad's sisters, whom you will have heard me refer to as Crunchy Aunt (Jenny, the mother of Perrin, who had me to live with her for about six months 2003-2004) and Crazy Aunt (Valerie, who married a genial pot-smoking giant and dropped out of graduate school in favour of a string of minimum-wage jobs because she finds them lower stress) are both the kind of person who have no idea what to do with children. I looked forward to seeing them with excitement because, being eccentric, they were cool; but I was shy around them, more or less because they didn't know which end to pick me up from. I always felt more at home with my mother's sisters, who all had children about my age, and whose houses were comfortable, and who had familiar food around. They weren't as cool, they were more likely to talk down to me and less likely to play with me, and even as a small child I was aware that I could beat them in a logical argiument. But they could substitute for my parents with comfort in a way my paternal aunts never could.
Obviously I always wanted to be like one of them, and not like Crunchy Aunt or Crazy Aunt. Except I think I totally have become the kind of person who has no idea what to do with children. Have I forgotten?
I dote on Carmela, who is a spoiled but articulate and utterly charming little urchin, but she's been stressed the last few months of her mother's pregnancy, I presume, and whiny and pettish and argumentative all the last several times I've seen her. Just looking at her makes me tired. I didn't play with her at all today.
