She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing

March 18, 2009 · by miss smidge · in

Having had a little time to reflect on the events of Saturday (and your comments, thank you) i’ve come to the conclusion that its not that The Boy wants children right now but that he finds me acceptable/suitable to have children with. This of course is rather flattering, and actually even better than someone saying they love you…. “I could see myself making a whole new person with you”…thats pretty darn special, right?

However, I’m not sure where he’s got this idea of ‘me’ from, why I could possibly make a suitable mother of his children. It is certainly never crossed my mind that id be a suitable mum. For a start…I think you have to be a mothering type, don’t you? I am not, definitely not, the mothering type:

The evidence…

1. I can’t look after myself, let alone another person. Dinner for the last three nights has consisted of 1) a beef and tomato Pot Noodle, 2) toast with beef spread and 3) one of those Philadelphia handy snack pots with breadsticks. Oh and an Easter egg, a Cadbury’s buttons one. And a bottle of red wine and half a bottle of white. I’m so full of nutritious values and healthy thoughts…Not! (However, I obviously know exactly what teenagers like to eat, and how they write by the looks of things; who uses Not! anymore?)

2. I’m Selfish. I’m not good at sharing my life with anyone and in particular I can be rather anti-social. I’m sure my head will explode if i’m badgered continuously by a small child pulling at my coat tails moaning mum mum mum mum mum mum mum etc etc etc. 

3. I’m not very patient. I stop listening very quickly; so in general I am the last person you go to for someone to listen and understand. I am good at giving advice though – generally along the lines of ‘stop bringing things on yourself’. Which wouldn’t be helpful to little minds either.

4. Morals? Lying? Cheating? Leading by example? Yeah right.

5. I’m rubbish at setting limits. I have no limits on myself let alone the ability to set them for someone else. One glass of wine always becomes three; one bottle of wine becomes Jeagerbomb shots, which results in Smidge time for bed. I have no self control. How am I meant to be able to discipline a child for drinking at 14 when I threw up out of my dad’s car window at exactly that age?

Ok, it may be that I am being a little harsh on myself, but I guess that he has seen something I haven’t, something in a future me that makes him broody.

Whatever that is, whether it’s a warmth, an ability to pass on love, to care, to help to nuture, to grow; if he can see it, then it’s there inside me. It’s been there all along, and that makes me happy.

One day, maybe ill see these things for myself….

Kx

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