It ain't nothing but a thang ..It's a sign of the times that virtually all my communication this year has been by text message, often via
Twitter. I'd like to say that I am 'of the time' and am keeping up with the very latest that the 'Netterati' have to offer. Not entirely premeditated however. At the turn of the year, I was still commuting to/ from London and had roughly 3 hours of my own 'down time' to think, reflect and punch away at the little keyboard. Those were three hours that are now spent cooking, clearing and generally engaging with F, the 7 year old wonder boy. It's not that I don't have time after he's gone to bed. It's not even that I don't have the energy. It's that I don't have the mental will to do or think about very much after 3 hours 'parenting' at the end of each day. Having the occasional window in on big brother's family life, I of course had a sense of the demands that child-rearing place on one's life, but it's really a case of 'you don't know until you know'.
I have been parachuted into this experience; willingly I might add. Willing in the sense that I am happy to be involved, rather than it was something I craved or sought out. It's an odd experience though I guess, taking on the oftentimes 'burden' of raising someone else's child. All the effort, and none of the - to me seemingly mystical experience of - 'unconditional love'. My care and affection are of course without condition. But I have often heard 'blood' parents say things like 'I would kill for ...'. And mean it. A colleague in the USA said something back in 2000 that I have never forgotten about his first-born - 'we hadn't planned for having kids, but now she's here she could shit in my mouth and I'd thank her for it'. I strive to recognise this feeling in myself but don't; or can't, I am not sure which. I hope that I am not judged for telling it how it is/ how it feels. I care very very much.
I enjoy the experience of watching, and maybe even playing a part in the development of a young and unformed mind. It is most definitely not always a burden, but that untamed selfishness and pushing of boundaries that comes with a child's embryonic sense of self and security; and the associated lack of reason is hard to cope with, without the biological ties that seem to be the pre-requisite for letting a child crap all over you. I take comfort from M who says that that kind of behaviour is hard for an 'actual' parent to take! Fair point, but it does not take away the reality that her emotional experience is probably quite different from mine and, I suspect (or more honestly put, I am slightly paranoid about that fact it may be), more rewarding. I relate to the parents who express the oft-cited 'it was the most incredible moment in my life', 'nothing else matters' and where they are coming from when they say it. But I do not feel it. I have not had this epiphany. Is it because I am a guardian, not a parent. Or because I lack something emotionally.
I have said countless times here before that I use this space to 'brain-dump'; sometimes coherently/ often incoherently so I muse around contradictions, rather than absolute opinions and I fear I am running off track again. I mean, I do not believe for a second that the biology of creation is an absolute pre-requisite for parental love. I think here about the experience of adults who choose to adopt. But I can't escape the gnawing feeling within myself that something is or may be missing. Will I have my own. I don't know, the clock is ticking. Do I want my own. Mostly yes, but often no. Figure that out! Why on earth would I want to put myself through what appears to be, materially, an incredibly hard and unrewarding job! And yet ...
Would creating a child of my own make any difference to the way I parent. I really don't think so. I feel quite guilty sometimes when I have to be harsh towards wonder boy. Am I failing him, or being unduly harsh because I don't have 'the connection', the empathy inherently linked to his creation. I hope not. I actually don't think I am doing badly, but there is no template to work from. I guess I am going to have to find a book and 'bone up' on the topic. F is with his Dad this weekend. And presto, found time to 'excrete' another log from the dark chambers of my nut.
However it pans out, it is quite a ride I can tell ya, being part of a 'thoroughly modern family'. I refer you to a recent experience at a National Trust place in East Sussex. We decided to sign up for a family membership (£83 for the year by the way). The staff member started to take down our details:
- "Your surname please". > "Seecharan".
- "Your Wife's first name". > "Martha".
- (writes) "Martha Seecharan". > "No, that's Martha Ro........"
- "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I do apologise". > "Not a problem" (smiles as I sense what's next)
- "Child's forename?". > "F ..."
- "F ... ? (looks up, anticipating surname). > "James".
- (writes) "F ... James" (consternation spreads across face)
How 21st Century! So what better place to experience this, than the typically stuffy middle england National Trust. Delicious!
