“Having kids will teach you new things about yourself” is a sentence that established parents might trot out when talking to new ones. While that’s obviously a true statement, I don’t think this is what they had in mind:
While holding one of my kids, it’s often a delicate balance. Regardless of what’s specifically going on, there are many situations in which their needs come right smack up against mine. I’ve gotten very good at putting the kids and their needs ahead of my own, but there’s one part I’m still finding to be difficult. Let’s set the scene:
Maybe he’s eating and the bottle has to remain just so, or she’s falling asleep and any movement or derivation from an existing movement would change her progress. I’m sitting there (also wanting them to complete those actions) when something happens. Let’s say I have to pee. No matter, I use an old trick Mike Honcho taught me and tell myself, “I’m not supposed to” right now, and then take care of it at a better time. It might be a sudden urge to blow my nose. No problem; I’ve sat there mouth-breathing and pushed that desire to the back of my mind. “I can do that later too,” I tell myself. The same is true but more difficult with an itch on my face. I’ll try making weird faces in hopes that I can somehow cause one piece of skin to rub up against the offending spot, but if it doesn’t work, I’m pretty good (not perfect) at focusing on something else until I don’t feel the need to scratch anymore. To a lesser extent, it’s difficult for me to watch my hot coffee sitting there, cooling in front of me instead of getting in my belly. “Drink me,” it says, “You love me.” “I do love you,” I say back telepathically, “but we’ll hang out a little later, ok?”
I could have guessed all of those things and my reactions to them, but being a parent in that situation has taught me a new thing about myself: I can’t stand seeing the blinking red light on my Blackberry that tells me I have a new message waiting without wanting to check it immediately. I didn’t know I had this problem, but now it’s clear. The same thing is true if I hear it buzz on the coffee table in front of me or elswhere in the house. I have to hope to forget about it (which surprisingly happens on occasion because of the craziness). If it’s right in front of me though, I have to admit, I’ve repositioned an almost-sleeping baby just to push a button or two on my phone. I don’t really get it. I mean, if I were specifically waiting to hear from someone via email or text, that would be one thing. But more often than not, I see that Amazon recommends new books for me or Ticketmaster has a list of summer concerts to tell me about. It’s almost never something time-sensitive or important, but that flashing red light is a like a reminder or alarm that goes off every second saying, “You have something waiting for you! You have something waiting for you! You have something waiting for you!” It doesn’t speak to me like coffee does though, because that would be fucked up.
You might be thinking, “Why not put your phone on silent so you don’t know if anything’s come in until after you’re done with the feeding/putting them to bed?” It’s a good question, but the light still flashes when it’s silent. In fact, it’s even worse on silent because then I play the whole, “Well maybe something came in and I don’t know because it didn’t buzz,” which leads to me looking at my phone much more often than I (or anyone) should. The best idea is for me to have it on silent and out of my sight – and more importantly – my reach. The only problem with that is that I know I’m unreachable during those times, and that makes me feel just a little unsettled (like a child being jostled around while his father gets another email about chicken specials from a local restaurant). I’m managing this addiction pretty well so far, and I think acknowledging it is a good step. That said, I didn’t see it coming and I have my kids to thank for shedding light on this issue for me.
Oh, and I’ve learned something else. After seeing my parents’ reactions this past week, I’m pretty sure that being visibly startled by an unexpected yet forceful poop is genetic.
