Dear Future Offspring,
I'm not sure why I'm writing this letter, seeing as I'm about 65% certain that I do not plan on having children, ever, for reasons including, but not limited to:
- Dietary restrictions (no sushi for NINE MONTHS?!)
- Morning sickness
- Epidurals
- Fat gain
- Caesarians
- The idea of not sleeping for 3+ years
But in the off chance that my ovaries kick in, and I'm overcome with the unstoppable, overwhelming, biological-clock-tickin' yearning to bear some babies, I just wanted to say a few things to you.
My childhood wasn't exactly sunshine and unicorns, and while I'll probably be sensitive to that fact, I'm also pretty sure you can expect similar moments of utter despondence. Get used to the idea, because I am possibly the least empathetic human being on Earth.
Actually, that's probably why I am writing to you today. A lot of people reminisce on their own upbringings and think to themselves, "Never like that again," and then make elaborate promises to their unborn children that they will never do x, y, and z. Bullsh*t. (Also, I swear like a sailor. Sorry.)
Mm-mm. Nope. Mom is going to lay down some real talk, because there's nothing I like more than dispelling rumors and crushing dreams.
1 - You will learn how to do something interesting.
This one is not negotiable. First of all, I was raised by Tiger Parents, and while I don't appreciate everything they did, I do have to thank them for keeping me on track with practicing. I played both the piano and the violin for 10 years because they made me set a timer for 30 minutes at least 4 times a week. Now, everything just collects dust, and it is very sad. Second... Kids - your mom runs a crafting blog. I don't expect you to learn to sew or draw or even papier-mache, but damned if I'm going to let you waste your days, letting your brain melt in front of whatever incarnation of popular media we get to.
2 - I will probably get mad at you for something really pointless, from time to time.
Not on purpose, mind you. I'm not going to wake up one morning and think, "How can I make their lives miserable today?" But I may wake up on the wrong side of the bed, or someone at work may tick me off, and you will unfortunately land in the wake of my fury. In the event this happens, I give Dad full rights to pinch me really hard. Like, really heavy-bruise-causing hard.
3 - I will not teach you how to drive when you reach the legal age.
Are you kidding? I want to say that I'll do my best to be calm about it, but let's be realistic. If you want to climb into the driver's seat while I'm sitting next to you, prepare for me to have an aneurysm. To put things in perspective, I have been driving for nigh 10 years, and my mom STILL clutches the passenger side door handle with the Iron Grip of Death every time I take the wheel (oh, yes, Mother. I do see it every single time.) Either your Dad takes care of it, or you're getting a private instructor for that nonsense. No joke.
4 - I will judge you.
Don't take it too personally. I'm just really judgmental. Furthermore, if I have to give up sweet, sweet sashimi for 9 months, don't get too angry when I tell you that English Literature is not exactly my top pick for your major. But, hey - I [probably] won't stalk you on Facebook, so you'll get that ounce of freedom. And you'd be surprised. Sometimes my expectations aren't as unrealistic as you'd think.
5 - I'll also judge your significant other. Harshly.
Boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, polyamorous lover, domestic partner, whoever. I'll be cordial, but I'll also probably be scrutinizing them with my beady little eyes the second they walk through the door. Again - judgmental. But, and I say this tentatively, unless they are Jack the Ripper, I'll probably let you handle things as you see fit. While naysaying in your ear, of course.
Most importantly-
6 - You'll be my child, forever.
That is not meant to sound sweet. I'll always be older than you by at least 26 years, and I'll probably think that I am still the authority, even when you become an adult yourself. So when things seem unbearable, and you don't know who to turn to, you will always be welcome in my home. And there will probably be experimental cookies waiting on the counter, too.
Hearts and kisses.
Until the next.
Actually, that's probably why I am writing to you today. A lot of people reminisce on their own upbringings and think to themselves, "Never like that again," and then make elaborate promises to their unborn children that they will never do x, y, and z. Bullsh*t. (Also, I swear like a sailor. Sorry.)
Mm-mm. Nope. Mom is going to lay down some real talk, because there's nothing I like more than dispelling rumors and crushing dreams.
1 - You will learn how to do something interesting.
This one is not negotiable. First of all, I was raised by Tiger Parents, and while I don't appreciate everything they did, I do have to thank them for keeping me on track with practicing. I played both the piano and the violin for 10 years because they made me set a timer for 30 minutes at least 4 times a week. Now, everything just collects dust, and it is very sad. Second... Kids - your mom runs a crafting blog. I don't expect you to learn to sew or draw or even papier-mache, but damned if I'm going to let you waste your days, letting your brain melt in front of whatever incarnation of popular media we get to.
2 - I will probably get mad at you for something really pointless, from time to time.
Not on purpose, mind you. I'm not going to wake up one morning and think, "How can I make their lives miserable today?" But I may wake up on the wrong side of the bed, or someone at work may tick me off, and you will unfortunately land in the wake of my fury. In the event this happens, I give Dad full rights to pinch me really hard. Like, really heavy-bruise-causing hard.
3 - I will not teach you how to drive when you reach the legal age.
Are you kidding? I want to say that I'll do my best to be calm about it, but let's be realistic. If you want to climb into the driver's seat while I'm sitting next to you, prepare for me to have an aneurysm. To put things in perspective, I have been driving for nigh 10 years, and my mom STILL clutches the passenger side door handle with the Iron Grip of Death every time I take the wheel (oh, yes, Mother. I do see it every single time.) Either your Dad takes care of it, or you're getting a private instructor for that nonsense. No joke.
4 - I will judge you.
Don't take it too personally. I'm just really judgmental. Furthermore, if I have to give up sweet, sweet sashimi for 9 months, don't get too angry when I tell you that English Literature is not exactly my top pick for your major. But, hey - I [probably] won't stalk you on Facebook, so you'll get that ounce of freedom. And you'd be surprised. Sometimes my expectations aren't as unrealistic as you'd think.
5 - I'll also judge your significant other. Harshly.
Boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, polyamorous lover, domestic partner, whoever. I'll be cordial, but I'll also probably be scrutinizing them with my beady little eyes the second they walk through the door. Again - judgmental. But, and I say this tentatively, unless they are Jack the Ripper, I'll probably let you handle things as you see fit. While naysaying in your ear, of course.
Most importantly-
6 - You'll be my child, forever.
That is not meant to sound sweet. I'll always be older than you by at least 26 years, and I'll probably think that I am still the authority, even when you become an adult yourself. So when things seem unbearable, and you don't know who to turn to, you will always be welcome in my home. And there will probably be experimental cookies waiting on the counter, too.
Hearts and kisses.
Until the next.
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