2005-03-09 - 8:05 a.m.
I am Switzerland, without the stores of Nazi gold...
Okay, now I do feel like crying for a perfectly good reason. Big hugs to you, sweetie. In one of those coincidences that aren't that uncommon, I was thinking about children on my way to work this morning. Specifically, why I like other people's, but the idea of having my own fills me with dread and horror. I like children, I really do; they are fun (some of the time), and cute (some of the time). Bob once pointed out that I don't condescend to children - I don't use baby talk, and I don't assume they can't understand me. While this is never a conscious thing, once he said it, I realized I did. I think I know why. My father's mother was an interesting woman - her youngest son died of a brain tumour when he was in his early twenties, and I think she never really recovered. In some obscure way, she always seemed to blame my father for not being the one to die. (I'm rather glad no-one in my family reads this.) My father had a difficult relationship with her, but I never did - the resentment (sometimes palpable) between them never spilled over into her relationship with me. For some obscure reason, I seemed to be her favourite grandchild. I am adopted, I'm the youngest child of her less-loved middle child, and I had no reason to be the favourite, but I really think she and I connected in a way that no-one else in the family did. My favourite times with her were when I was allowed to go down to her house (Long Close) alone and stay for a week or so. I'm good at amusing myself, and the house and grounds were large enough to amuse an imaginative child for days on end (though thinking a triffid was behind me when I was playing in the orchard gave me a bit of a fright once). We spent a lot of time together talking, and I remember that even when I was very young, she always talked to me as if I was an adult. I was a bit of a chatterbox as a child; intelligent, but socially awkward in the way that very clever children are, and prone to saying oddball things. We clever children are not to be envied - our thinking power far outstrips our social graces, and if we're lucky, they catch up sometime in our twenties (as happened to me, thank heavens). People with less brainpower but good people skills do much better as children - as any moody loner child can tell you. When I was with Grandma, though, it didn't matter that I was awkward, because she would actually talk to me about stuff, rather than continually tell me how I should be behaving (as my other grandmother did). I got no lectures on my weight and what I should be doing, just endless conversations about whatever came to mind. I remember those days, and how grown-up they made me feel. Children aren't fools; they know when they're being dismissed. Conversely, they know when they're being taken seriously, and they like it. (They also know when they're in charge and can always get their way by throwing tantrums, but that's a different social problem.) You don't talk to a child the way you would to an adult, not really. Children are not yet equipped by experience to be able to understand certain things, but that doesn't mean they don't think about them. I like talking to children - they often have extremely complex ideas about why something might be the way it is, and it's fascinating to see how they view things. They're also incredibly generous - life hasn't taught them yet that people take advantage of generous people. While I may not want to eat the french fry offered by grubby hands, I appreciate the sentiment behind the offer. I don't know why that enjoyment of children never translated into a desire to have ones of my own - even when I was trying with my ex, it wasn't because I wanted a child, but because of a number of stupid and tortured factors in my life. Actually *wanting* a child has never happened to me, not when holding them, not when all my friends started having them, not ever. I suppose I just want to be like my grandmother to my friends' kids - the one they can talk about *anything* with. I suppose in part, I fear that I would not like my children, and I couldn't risk doing that to a child. Sometimes, one's children can be quite unlikeable, and I fear them perceiving that. But let me be a safe person to my friends' children; let me be someone they can come to with stuff they feel anxious about. I may not have children, but I remember what being a child was like, and I remember how so many things needed to be said, but there were no words to say them, because the fear of disappointing my parents was too strong. My Grandmother was a neutral party for me; I would like to pass that on to another generation.
Dorsal - Ventral
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all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005
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