Blessed Event

First off, this week, gentle readers, I must correct a severe misunderstanding engendered by the content of this space last week. You may recall that the subject of my rant upon that occasion was several graphic examples of the emotion of disappointment. The last one of these examples is the source of the misunderstanding.
Some of you, dear friends and neighbors, were under the impression that since my own youngest child’s college graduation was a relatively recent event, this is what I was alluding to when I said disappointment was coming home from your youngest child’s college graduation, thinking you were finally going to get your life back, only to have your wife tell you, “Honey, the pills didn’t work.”
No, people. My wife is not pregnant.
There is a sure fire way to know this is true. If my wife were expecting another young’un, some 23 years after our last one was born, I would be standing out in the middle of Highway 70 with a gun to my head.
Since I am not currently threatening to turn my rotting carcus into a speed bump, you may safely assume that we are not anticipating a blessed event.
I have always had issues with that term, anyway. Who says it’s a “blessed” event?
Have you had a good look at the current crop of results from blessed events? Do their parents give you the impression they feel blessed?
My take on the situation is something different. To me, the parents of those presently in the 12 to 20 set give every indication of wanting their money back. Oh, they’ll say otherwise in public, but get them alone, and get a few beers into them, and they’ll tell you the truth.
Of course, there is more than one possible explanation for this. While their off-spring may well be more of a trial than a reward, it is equally possible that the kid has a right to feel something less than blessed.
Maybe mom and dad were convinced that what they wanted was what was all-important. So now, when the shoe is on the other foot and they’ve got a kid who feels the same way, they can’t handle it. Once a person gets the idea in their head that “I am the center of the universe. Nothing is more important than what I want right now,” just the act of becoming a parent doesn’t necessarily do anything to correct that impression.
But, then again. One of the catch phrases of the movement to eliminate teen pregnancy is the outcry about “children having children.” Sorry, that won’t wash. If emotional maturity were the defining guideline for reproduction, our population would be significantly smaller than it is. In fact, we might well be extinct by now. Not that this would be an altogether bad thing.
Fact is, children have always had children. I’m not endorsing it, that’s just the way it is. How many of you, gentle readers, can say with a straight face and pure heart that you were emotionally, financially and maturely prepared when you had your first kid?
I know I can’t. When our first one, Chris, came along, I was still pretty much a kid, myself.. Did a heck of a lot of growing up in the 30 seconds after I first laid eyes on him, though.
I can remember the thought process, as if it were yesterday. “Holy cow! A child, a little person that I am totally responsible for. Guess it’s time for me to get my act together. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.” Nobody is ever “ready” to be a parent
I will remain forever grateful to my “domineering, tyrannical” father because he imbedded in me the firm belief that I am responsible not only for what I do, but also for the repercussions of what I do.
Just don’t get the idea I am anybody’s idea of a role model, Neither was Dad, for that matter.