The "G" Word

Friday, Jun. 13, 2003-4:40 am
"I knew you even before you were conceived�" Jeremiah 1:4-5

In celebration of Father's day and parenthood, I dedicate this entry.

Six years ago, by some mysterious whirl of the double helix, after only 2 months of tossing out the use of birth control... I was thrilled to find myself pregnant.

I was not 21 anymore . I was not even 31 anymore. It seemed that it was all the rage in Hollywood, from Madonna to Susan Sarandon , to be having babies in the late 30's and early 40's. I, ever-the -trendy one, felt good about following the latest craze. I was in great shape, I breezed through two pregnancies, 11 months apart, and never gained an ounce of fat.

I have a few male friends , some were supportive, and some were agast. One of these friends turned into a man who 's mission in any given conversation seemed to be to deliver insight about the folly of women having children in their late 30 's. My friend G. , an intelligent man, except for this area, would practically sneer with distain when saying the phrase "soccer mom". He believed that women like me, had abandoned having a good job in favor of raising children. He stated that "soccer moms" will do anything to avoid doing any "real work". They either need an excuse for why, at that age, they have failed at their chosen career, or they think their genes are so superior that they feel compelled to reproduce them. He thinks , in some cases , the bearers of prodgeny are doing so to ensnare the male, and have a meal ticket for life.

Oh Please!!!!!!

Either way, he figures I will end up in car pools and play dates, and Mommy and Me classes, in a bleak living hell. He finds it ludicrous that after four years of higher education I elect to sit on a park bench and talk about Huggies vs Pampers.

Ouch.

I repress the powerful urge to blurt out something defensive. I just smile and say that I am very happy, as I secretly grit my teeth.

I have several areas of competence. Being impervious to insults is not one of them.

Being impervious is not what I do best. In fact, on my personal list of things I do best, being impervious ranks embarrassingly low, just below x-ray vision and menstruation. In ways I understand less than how the double helix conjoined and created me in the first place....I have always had to fight the tendency to internalize what people say about me. .

I believe in being an being an optimist, but in doing so, half the time I have been engaged in the most pathetic sort of wishful thinking.

I used to believe in a "prince charming" perfect man that I had yet to meet. Delusional as that sounds, I have even harbored thoughts of things even more bizzarre than that!! For example, I dream of being the perfect "Good Housekeeping" poster woman. (until recently the expression was "Martha Stewart", but she has since fallen from grace..)

My unrealistic fantasies don't end there. I apparently thought that I would be young and desirable forever. I never thought crows feet would appear anywhere except on the lawn. I thought the laws of gravity did not apply to my body.

Something was said tonight and that upsets me. My delusions of myself as a physically appealing man- magnet were forever snuffed out tonight.

I saw the mother of one of my daughter's schoolmates with her two kids. When the mother introduced me to the older brother, explaining that I was "Nicole's mom", this little juvenile delinquent said " I thought she looks like her grandmother."

As he said this he looked right at me and he smiled, almost mockingly, perhaps sadistically.( Maybe the kid needs glasses. Maybe he needs a good kick in the butt. Maybe he is echoing some clever banter he heard on a sit-com. Or maybe I really looked like hell today.Who can say??? ) The only thing missing was the sound effect of the evil villainous laugh , like the Green Goblin in the old Spiderman cartoons from the 60 's.

Despite intellectual knowlege to the contrary, I have been fixated on this off-handed phrase from a 7 year old, and haunted by the word "grandmother". The incident has been played and replayed over and over in my mind. I have substituted clever responses for whatever insipid thing I may have actually said.

If I were to imagine some insolent comment about my appearance from a young boy, it might be something more like, "I can see through your blouse". ANY sentence would have been better that the one with the word "grandmother"...

If I were a big fan of drinking alchohol, I might be sticking a flexible straw in a bottle of Chardonnay right about now, and proceed to just sip away...avoiding the formality of pouring.

I guess I was never destined to win any mental health awards.

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