Monday, August 23, 2004

A Small Perplexity

I’m into Johnny Cash right now. I don’t know why. He mainly sings about landing in jail for shooting people, dying by railroad tracks and sassing no-good women. But I like it. The way he sings makes me want to be sassed. Jason downloaded (legally…well, in Russia) a bunch of songs, including Johnny’s cover of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus.” I always felt slightly guilty for listening to the Depeche Mode version, because it seemed slightly blasphemous. But Johnny’s version (same exact words, mind you) sort of arouses one to have faith.

My morning sickness left a week ago, only to be replaced by a bad case of bitchiness and a new perplexity. I’m not worried about labor/delivery, breastfeeding or even post-partum depression. There may be difficulties with all of these, but I don’t seem to be that afraid of them. My current perplexity is so…well, silly, I guess. I am afraid that I won’t like my kid. Silly, I know. Everyone is ga-ga over their babies. I guess that’s my concern. Lately, I’ve been around a number of parents and small tots. Everything seems to be a wonderment to parents. And I do my best to act awash in interest, but frankly, I’m not that amazed.

Example. Yesterday, we went boating with our friends who have a 1 year old. He is pointing to things and saying words. Which I truly was impressed with, say, the first ten words or so. After that, not so much. But my friend continued to have him say every single word that he knows for my benefit. He knows how to say “freckle” so she pointed out every freckle in the vicinity. I think I heard the word “freckle” about twenty times in a row. I like their kid, he’s fine. But I just do not find him nearly as interesting as they do. And I kind of feel the same way about most of the other kids in my life.

And I find it hard to imagine that I’ll ever be that fascinated with that stuff. I know that it’s just because it’s not my kid, and I will probably feel differently later with my own child. When does the face they make while pooping suddenly become vastly interesting to you? Is there a change in your brain that causes you to demonstrate every baby face scrunch and butt wiggle to your friends? Right now, it seems a little unfathomable.

So that’s what I am currently perplexed about.


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