A few weeks back I received a strange piece of mail. A stranger had invited me somewhere! Well, It was a baby shower invite for a coworker who I really like so that part made me happy. She is going to be an excellent mom and I’m so happy she is growing her family. It happens tonight!
Now, I generally just give a gift to new moms and run away? Why? Because I am afraid of babies. I am missing that mothering gene that twinges my ovaries and makes me want to have kids and Â pretty much be responsible for another life for 18 years. In fact, I think my baby making innards might shrivel up when I hear a screaming kid. It gives me panic attacks. I’m not kid friendly usually. It isn’t like you can’t trust me with kids or I can’t behave around them. It is just that I don’t want to care for them for years on end and dedicate my life to child rearing. The Husband is pretty fine with not having kids. Some days I think he’s relived actually. At the beginning of our marriage we talked about adopting older kids. They have such a rough life and it is really sad. They are out of that breakable baby phase too. Then the joke was to get a 17 1/2 year old to play video games with and put through college. Seriously, we can’t share our game system with another person, 2 is hard enough to get game time! Hah! Now not having children is a reality. We aren’t having any kids on purpose. If something happened I would have the baby or adopt the child dropped in my lap, but until then it isn’t going to happen. We don’t feel a need to pass on a legacy, and honestly, there is no guarantee your kids will look after you when you are old anyway. Might as well be happy right?
I thought this part of the invite was awesome! Yay for books. I grew up a huge reader. My mom and I read the same books and talked about them. She read to me as a child and I learned how to read myself when I was about 4. It might have been earlier, but I think some of those books might have just been memorized. So off to the bookstore I went. And then I was lost. In case you didn’t know, I’m Canadian. And child-free. And I was in an American Borders Books in the Kids section starting to hyperventilate. There is a huge children’s book market. We were supposed to bring a childhood favourite, so I automatically think of A Bear Called Paddington. This is where my foreign blood shows. Not going to find that in the midwest! Oops. Each time I looked for a book, I realized I was having a culture shift. I don’t like Dr. Seuss and never have. I could do something generic, but it was supposed to be a book *I* liked. Curious George was there and that was pretty big in my family library but kind of boring. Honestly, I stopped reading a lot of young child books pretty early and moved to young adult then full on adult when I could figure out a dictionary. This was a gift for a boy as well, so I had to be picky.
I settled on The Little Prince. Then I realized, I had never read this book in English! Yep, I read it in French. I hope it is just as good in English. Some days I just realize how foreign I am, never mind weird. Since I had a knitting disaster with my original planned gift, I pulled out a Kimono sweater I knit because I felt like making a baby knit.