Pablum

pab-lum 1. n. Trite, insipid, or simplistic writing, speech, or conceptualization 2. n. a soft form of cereal for infants


Sunday, February 7, 2010

Nothing New Under the Sun

No sane person is alone in worrying that they are indeed becoming their parents.  Prior to having a kid, this particular piece of truth was whispered only in the dark recesses of my mind.  But now, it is out in the open screaming louder than a cat walking across a lit 4-burner stove. It hit me at 3 a.m. this morning as I attempted to calm Izzy with the most famous line from the universal parent playbook: "This hurts me more than it hurts you."  This was in reference to the blue bulb syringe I was using to vigorously suck snot from her poor little rudolph nose.  As I uttered this pronouncement, it conjured images from my own childhood:  toddler-me in the doctor's office getting a shot from the world's biggest needle; tearful-and-contrite-me receiving a multitude of well-deserved spankings for my latest transgression; and tomboy-me having a Louisville Slugger splinter extracted painfully from my throbbing finger.  And, in tandem with these images, my parents droning this same unbelievable phrase:  "This hurts me more than it hurts you." 

But now I am a believer.  The sound of her pitiful cry was viscerally painful to me, the bearer of the syringe. It really did hurt me worse than her!  But then I had an epiphany...if I'm going to embrace the "hurts me more" mantra, then what about all of the other parental treasures?  Am I expected to say, "One of these days, you'll thank me" with a straight face?  Or how about, "If all of your friends jump off a bridge, will you?"  And in the acerbic category: "Do you want me to give you a reason to cry?"; or "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times!" and, or course, "Do you think money grows on trees?"

I don't really have a conclusion about my recent verbal vomit; I'm just waiting to see which archaic phrases from my childhood surface and trip off my tongue as Izzy grows.  Am I doomed to admonish my child with, "Close that door...were you raised in a barn?!"

Thanks for listening to my rantings.  And you'd better get back from that computer or you'll ruin your eyes. 

1 comment:

  1. Hi Jen- You are really a good writer! I love reading and remembering those baby times. I remember those blue syringes and sucking out snot, but I had forgotten until you talked about it again.

    One of our better parenting moments was when Glen had to sit on Bonnie as a 4 year old to put in the painful drops for pinkeye. That was really hard to watch.

    I love seeing all of Izzy's people and her pictures scrolling through. The ones of your Dad with her are especially dear.

    We sent Izzy a teeny tiny Valentiney in the mail which is coming from the Bookguyz (through Amazon) which didn't offer the option to put a gift message on it. You will understand why I bought it when you see it. I hope you both enjoy it! Love, Gail

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