Kids

For someone who at one point didn't want kids, the past few years of my life have been surprisingly inundated with me potentially acquiring kids. This comes in light of a proposal by my sis to possibly watch her two kids for a year or so, while she deploys. If she had asked me this ten years ago, I think I would have been freaking out and telling her to ask someone, anyone else. Instead, I'm strangely calm about it and feel...capable. After being desensitized to kids, then engendering a love of certain ones, it changed a lot of my outlook concerning the little buggers. Now, they're just my cubbies. Five of them to one auntie, but I've come to care about each of them in turn. 

In fact, contrary to popular familial belief, I've never specifically not wanted kids or rather, I've never said I didn't want any of my own. I just said I didn't like kids. So, what's the difference? Well, kids, are usually other peoples kids. They've influenced them, raised them, and done different things that just make them super unlikable. For instance, my initial dislike of kids, was due to one of my sisters babysitting jobs falling through on account of she was MIA. So, the duty, which became quite literal a few hours later, fell to me. Newbornish baby boy. Crying non-stop. 12 year old me, baffled on what to do with it. Someone suggests a diaper change. I'm the unlucky one to unravel the bubbling mass of witches brew that was the babies poop. It was liquid, horrifying, and indelibly etched into my brain as a really good reason to avoid kids. Exhibit B was my bio sperm donor having me watch his girlfriends kids like I was their mama. I had to bathe them, feed them, help them with their homework, go grocery shopping, and then some. Again at 12. If not for my canine pal White Wolf, I would have been a miserable mess. Hmm, okay, I was, but that's of no consequence for what I'm talking about. The point is, being responsible for kids, the eldest who was only three years younger than myself was the straw that broke the camels back. I felt like if I ever saw another kid again, it would be too soon.

So, fast forward 10 or 11 years, my eldest sis reenters my life with two kids. I'm foresworn to have nothing to do with them, then I end up babysitting them. Resentment is strong. Then we take them to the bay and they grow on me. When I'm at work, my niece runs to her mom to give her a hug, screaming mom and I wonder what it'd be like to have a cub run to me and call me mom. My small shrunken heart grew a size, half an inch, bigger. I start to think of them with terms like cute, adorable, smart, intelligent, and likable. I introduce one to anime and am comfortable with the close distance. Then another is on the way and I'm like this isn't a two year old or a five year old. This will be one of those spit up, diarrhea, creatures that I've dreaded. She comes into my life and I don't see her. Literally. My sis says there she is and I see a pink blanket and that's it. I ask where is she, and go closer for a sniff. My nose always investigates first. There she is. A smaller lump than a blanket, extremely fragile, and she looks like an alien. I tell my sis and she's not amused. Every animal instinct I own starts to reach out towards her. Much like it tried to do when she was in the womb. I avoid holding her for two days, then comes the dreaded hold the baby. A thousand scenarios of dropping her enters my mind, but instead she lies there and squints. I'm squinting too, but it's because of light sensitivity. I ask for the lights to be lowered just in case it's a problem for her too and she smiles at me. We've bonded.

I took care of her like she was my own cub and taught her the same body language. Nose touches nose. Forehead presses and cheek rubs. My friends know her intimately as she becomes my shadow. Everyone is astonished, including me. I ponder the idea of if a mate wanted cubs, would I be willing to have one and the answer is a surprising yes. If only, he would stay with me. Not to say, if it was a choice of stay with him, have a kid or leave, because I'd choose leave. Don't put an ultimatum on me. However, I would rather have his help in raising a cub, more than doing it all alone. It doesn't matter, but it is there. 

My time watching kids goes from a few hours, to days, to a week and a half. More and more I feel confident that I can do it alone, instead of feeling far out of my depth. I'm known as the strict one, but the kids are happiest with me. Punishment is endured by all. Hard to single a kid out for wanting to be with their siblings, even in punishment. So, to the corner my cub went. We adults tried not to laugh. Memories compile and  I feel a sense of power with knowledge, but still fear in watching kids. However, now I'm no longer afraid to watch them. I'm comfortable with it. 

My sister is contemplating employing me after I graduate to help with her kids. Maybe a year or two or until she retires in five years. I'm not sure and not really worried. I'm flexible after June. I just marvel at how the idea of watching two kids for a year no longer terrifies me. I believe I can do it and that's kind of the most amazing thing at all. Although, to tie back in to the top, that's why I feel like even though I don't have kids of my own, I feel like an accidental mom. One way or another, I've spent way more time watching kids these past few years than normal, but then I wonder, is this normal? Is this what aunties do? Spend all their time with the kids in their family? I feel like although I'm comfortable with kids, I'm still a far cry away from reacting as humans do, but that's a thought for another time.