Almost everyone I've known on facebook at some point or other has dedicated a post to their xanga, usually in their final, you know, posts. At some point, i felt so close to my xanga, that I'd hardly call it a personification. So here goes nothin'.

Hey xanga!!! I missed you. Shit is pretty good.

And then there comes that inevitable moment when you look and you think "Wow, there is a little person here. How'd that happen?"

Some people think they have small children in their lives in a big way because they are largly related to the kids. The illusive aunt who burries miscellaneous that didn't sell at the catholic church's annual garage sale that year beneath fluff and fuzz in a cardboard box stamped with the address of those kids she really never got to know past diapers, she doesnt really know the pressure of parenthood. I do. When i feel that immense stress that started with mere miscommunication and an uneven child to adult figure ratio and ended with everyone looking at you because you are so frustrated that you want to cry and you yell at them irate and helpless so that they will listen to you, and they dont because they dont get it or in my case perhaps they dont know english but still have legs that could outrun your fatss any day of the week. The pride that fills you when you make the same kid you scolded yesterday laugh so hard they have tears in their eyes and you know its because they are part of you. 

The complete comfort of holding your little one with your whole body and whole heart when they cry about hurting themselves. The humor opposed with honor you feel and find when they come to you with another really silly situation that could easily be cleared up with ice cream and a loving explanation and a rub on the back. The guilt you feel when work comes before play- the even worse feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get from knowing the reason youre retreating to your room so fast isnt because you have to. The motherly instincts that overcome you when all you want is for them to see themselves how you see them, or just to hold them when they are crying, again, and youre okay with that. The reality of getting out of bed to give them a midnight snack after they shouldve been in bed, or better yet refusing their plea and turning over in your bed, feeling like the mean orphanage woman who was probably named Mortha and never gave a damn. The fear that crosses their faces when they drop something insignificant and the fear in your eyes when they drop something of much significance and they dont even look down. The ungratified looks they have when you walk in the door and you say hey but they say nothin. 

There is so much joy that relatives just dont see. Theyre exited to view the kids, to play with them, to send them things. Do they know how much it takes to show a kid how much you love them, all of the time? Does the unimpregnated/only child world understand how long it really takes to feed a child? Niet, absolutely not. I look at it this way:  at least im getting practice now, because no matter how much i hate kids, i'll probably have them. Haha.

Being a parent means suffering, squeezing so hard your fingers break off, for the invisible juice you get in return. But i guess its worth it. And it keeps me guessing. No, i dont want to plan kids parties or host them, i dont want to have to get a baby sitter every time i want to have dinner with my husband without noodles spewed in my eye and/or other costumers pissing on my head. I dont want the concept of making lunch to be something that can and will make me cry. I dont want to realize that id ont know how to teach things ive been doing my entire life without a second thought. I dont want to know that TV is bad and that listening to classical music is the most exiting thing you can do for your baby. But maybe ill have kids. Then again, maybe i wont. I really don't know, and thats okay. I dont know so many things about my future, but its okay. I think itll be good. That sounds like an abrupt change of heart, but thats what being a parent figure is all about. You gotta be flexible as hell, and that quality will come in a lot of handy for me. I gotta face it, my little sisters have two older parents and two younger ones who are going to college for the rest of their lives and wont be there when the most painful rules must be laid down anymore. But thats ok.

"Are you crying?"

".......Kind of....yeah"

"Ugh! Get over it."

"Heh..."

One week later

"So i heard you were upset yesterday..."

"Yeah...Its really upsetting."

"Suck it up!"

"What..?"

"Nothing."

anyone? anyone?