Observational Distress
I wanted to write something tonight and since it's non-movie related and my options were somewhat limited, here I am. Sorry this blog has completely lost it's purpose.
I attended a "Siblings Class" with my wife and daughter today. The purpose of the class is to prepare little people for the arrival of even littler people, and it was attended by about five families. They walked us through the rooms, used clinical terms for the parts "inside mommy" and took pictures of the new siblings to put in the crib of the "child on the way." Given the class was aimed at a 5-year-old audience, I had plenty of time to scan the room.
Two observations really kind of stuck with me. The first was when the class facilitator took a baby from the nursery and showed it to the little kids. This baby was pissed off like Jack Nicholson in traffic, screaming, eyes shut, with that look that only a baby can get away with that says "I'm not going to stop crying for any reason. You can't make this better."
I remember that look and I remember having conversations with other parents about how that look and the accompanying hours of crying can cut away at even the most steeley resolves. One friend in particular told me "I now know why parents beat their children." This might sound like the worst sentiment in the world, but it's true. When a baby wears you down to where you're sitting in a chair, holding the crying kid, crying yourself because there's no way you can sooth this child, and the realization strips you of all you have to hold onto about yourself as a parent, that can be a pretty harrowing moment. The consolation prize is...what's you're option at that point? Move on. That's it.
But the second observation was far more fun. Women, and I'm sure most will admit this, are fairly uncomfortable, hormonal and short tempered during the final stage of their pregnancy. My wife hasn't been so bad, but that's like saying "that mauling from that Wolverine was a pretty soft mauling." Good or bad, you're going to bleed a little bit.
What was fun to see was the sort of "thousand yard stare" every single man in that room shared. Each guy was going through a rough patch and you could see it in their body language, their lack of motivation and the way they held themselves. Brothers of the pissy, pregnant wives, unite!
Anyway...I've purged.
I attended a "Siblings Class" with my wife and daughter today. The purpose of the class is to prepare little people for the arrival of even littler people, and it was attended by about five families. They walked us through the rooms, used clinical terms for the parts "inside mommy" and took pictures of the new siblings to put in the crib of the "child on the way." Given the class was aimed at a 5-year-old audience, I had plenty of time to scan the room.
Two observations really kind of stuck with me. The first was when the class facilitator took a baby from the nursery and showed it to the little kids. This baby was pissed off like Jack Nicholson in traffic, screaming, eyes shut, with that look that only a baby can get away with that says "I'm not going to stop crying for any reason. You can't make this better."
I remember that look and I remember having conversations with other parents about how that look and the accompanying hours of crying can cut away at even the most steeley resolves. One friend in particular told me "I now know why parents beat their children." This might sound like the worst sentiment in the world, but it's true. When a baby wears you down to where you're sitting in a chair, holding the crying kid, crying yourself because there's no way you can sooth this child, and the realization strips you of all you have to hold onto about yourself as a parent, that can be a pretty harrowing moment. The consolation prize is...what's you're option at that point? Move on. That's it.
But the second observation was far more fun. Women, and I'm sure most will admit this, are fairly uncomfortable, hormonal and short tempered during the final stage of their pregnancy. My wife hasn't been so bad, but that's like saying "that mauling from that Wolverine was a pretty soft mauling." Good or bad, you're going to bleed a little bit.
What was fun to see was the sort of "thousand yard stare" every single man in that room shared. Each guy was going through a rough patch and you could see it in their body language, their lack of motivation and the way they held themselves. Brothers of the pissy, pregnant wives, unite!
Anyway...I've purged.
posted by Asinine Army at 9:17 PM
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