The Thin Red Line

Your Ma and Pa (clothed)

Your Ma and Pa (in the buff)

I must begin this blog with a brief comment about the "No Sir, Not my Baby" blog posted a few months back. Um...well...I still hold those beliefs close to my heart and no doubt, when given the first opportunity to jump out of an airplane, free ball down a double black diamond, or throw myself into a punching bag at the local dojo...I will take it with enthusiasm and reckless abandon. I will, however, have to figure out a way to strap the little tyke safely to my board, back, or punching glove as I engage. Stranger things have happened. Take for instance the fact that I am pregnant. Nuff said.

I figured I better include the blog to give a better idea of my attitude towards parenting and motherhood just a mere 1 month before conception. I think they call this type of thing...Murphy's Law.

Entered June 25, 2008

No Sir, Not My Baby

My blogs and verbal diarrhea can at times seem like rants, other times like raves. Nonetheless, today's rant, slash, blog, has the personal connection of being a little bit of both. This morning after 47 minutes of high intensity laps in the pool at the Alhambra gym well before 6 am, I snatched two magazines off the shelf in preparation for my after shower ritual (titles at this time unknown)…flipping through meaningless articles while applying my mask on the floor in front of the mirror listening to the morning news. As I laid them out in front of me, I was immediately hit with a sense of disorientation. One magazine was titled "Parenting", and the other titled "Transworld Surf". The photos on the cover were obviously quite different as one might presume. "Surf" portrayed a ripped Dustin Barca sequence atop, in, and over the most beautiful turquoise wave you've ever seen. "Parenting" was proud to display a brown haired, blue eyed toddler boy leaning effortlessly (obviously posed), over his mothers yellow bikini clad waist. The mother's face was not in the picture, giving the reader the impression that the kid was the obvious focus here. In a split second, my mind made one of those unconscious, yet, conscious decisions of which magazine lifestyle best mirrored that of my own. For those of you who know me, I am not an avid surfer. That is not the point here. This magazine could have been any number of publications; National Geographic, Horse Illustrated, Travel, Ski, Kiteboarding, etc. The list could go on and on. What the periodical did say to me was this. It brought to light the negative connotations attached to women my age without children. Am I a bad person because I would rather surf or photograph rhinoceros? Am I missing out on some wondrous adventure in babysitting? Taking a few minutes to flip through both, this is what I noticed. "Surf" was filled with ads for Body Glove Board shorts, PADI diving excursions, adventure automobiles capable of sustaining a Go Green approach, and Extra's mintiest proportion gum. "Parenting yielded Sesame Street Beginnings, Intuition razors, Capri Sun and Crisco. Musical recommendations from "Surf" included the likes of Wu Tang Clan, Brimstone Howl, Radiohead, and White Hinterland. "Parenting"…Bossy Bear, Songs for the Coolest Kids, and Danger Rangers. Sure methods of pacifier freezing for maximum gum numbness is interesting as is the fact that the average temperature of a lit sparkler is 1000 degree Fahrenheit and thus dangerous for youngsters. Yes, doodling on the sidewalk with colored chalk is fun as well as is constructing drum sets out of pots, pans, cardboard boxes, and other household items. To me however, remedies for reef cuts using a lime juice antiseptic or successful escape routes thorough deserted dirt roads of Mexico are a little more my speed. It is often overheard that people without children "don't understand" or the infamous, "when you have kids, you'll know" sentiments. For the record, I think kids are great. I teach them. I love them. I believe in their future. I also think freedom and the ability to explore the world are necessary to my internal and external survival. When parents are confronted with this type of thinking, many immediately become defensive that their "children are their life" and "you can do both". Actually, you can not do both. You may be able to randomly hitch a ride to a border town for a weekend in Tijuana or plan a family vacation to Hawaii, but parents are always, always attached to their responsibilities. I am happy for you and your children. I am happy that your families are your priority. I am happier though, that I am free. I may delete this post in the future if I happen to wake up one smoky Wednesday morning feeling overwhelmingly maternal. But for the time being, I choose to surf.