Monday, May 21, 2007

My Cousin the Super Villain

Last weekend at a family gathering I found myself talking with my cousin who has three children ages five and under. He was describing the youngest one (3 years old) and her personality. Instead of telling me what she was like, he said “She’s either going to be a politician or a Super Villain.” I laughed at the prospect of a father thinking his youngest daughter could be something of a comic book character. But then I began thinking about how we attribute future careers to our kids.
When I was pregnant with my son, he never stopped kicking and moving. At each doctor’s visit, we had trouble hearing his heartbeat because he was constantly moving away from where the doctor was listening. Each time I told people about that, they would say he was going to play sports or be a gymnast. It’s funny how they always assigned careers to him based on his personality before it’s even had a chance to form. Why didn’t they think he would make a good demolition derby driver? They have to weave around a lot. Or how about a waterslide tester? Or a kung-fu movie actor? They definitely have to kick and move quickly!
So, I never found out why my cousin thought his daughter might become a super villain. But I do know that I will either keep my distance from this little hooligan, or donate a lot of money to her campaign. If I’m going to be related to a super villain, I’d at least like to have her out in front where I can see her.

Monday, May 14, 2007

The Glamorous Life

I was rifling through my bathroom vanity (looking for a washcloth to wipe the spit-up off of my arm) when I saw the pretty make-up kit that my husband so lovingly bought me for Christmas. It had gotten dusty sitting there...probably hadn't been opened in several months. I realized right then that I had gone from wearing make-up to wearing spit-up the minute my son was born. This is not the glamorous life I had imagined, but he is worth it all. So every day I fix my hair after my shower (I have to have SOME dignity, right?), put on clothes that I don't mind getting splattered with hour-old baby formula, and prepare to get peed on at the next diaper change. Goodbye heels and business attire, hello sweats and bottles. My glamour lies in being a good mom.