fun, fun, (no) fun
Thursday, January 13, 2011 at 4:55PM Before I got pregnant, I heard stories from friends of the moment(s) when you rethink having a child. The GOB Bluth I've made a huge mistake moments, when you realize that you didn't sufficiently weigh the pros and cons, or you'd neglected to confront that one issue and as a result, your unborn baby was destined for a life of failure, of hating you for so thoroughly screwing them up which you were bound to do and could've avoided had you just...just. Something.
That giant oh-bugger came at my dear sister-friend's wedding when I was ten weeks along and everyone around me was dancing, taking off their shoes and hamming it up for photos. I am no fun, I thought. Wait -- I am no fun! And I'm pregnant! With a person, who, for at least the first several years, will REALLY LOVE FUN. As I stood there, wishing everyone could just keep their shoes on like civilized adults, I ran through the list of fun things I'm bad at: dancing; singing; goofiness in general; being cute in photos; being in photos at all; making up silly stories; dealing with bodily functions. You get the idea.
Ordinarily, I think, when this happens, your friends and family are there to quell your fears, to say that you're overreacting and everything will be fine. But I ran it by a few people and the best response was, "Well, at least Nathan's fun." NO CONSOLATION!
Turns out, life with me is not exactly the funeral parlour experience I anticipated it might be. When it's just George and me, I can make with some pretty good animal noises and singing is getting easier (after a slight setback around the nine-month mark, when he began paying attention), but I would still never, in a million years, call myself fun. I have reconciled myself with this (slightly) by telling myself that people are different and it's not like I'm morose (usually), and George might benefit from exposure to someone who doesn't act like the world is one big hoedown, as many are wont to do with babies and small children. Still, I'd like to loosen up some and now is as good a time as any.
George is on the cusp of learning to walk. His balance is steadier than ever, and he loves to get up and around. The cold, wet Washington winter keeps us indoors a lot more often than I'd like, but we still need to move. The warmer months meant everyday walks around the neighborhood, trips to the park where we could stretch out and roll around, but when we're cooped up my inclination toward the somewhat sedentary starts to flourish. Not something I want my kid to inherit. I wish, wish, wish I could wing it -- put on some music and freestyle dance around the livingroom, letting him join in or not, watch or crawl around and throw blocks. But I'm just not that person. Yet. So: January fairies of Amazon Prime and legally downloadable visual media, hear my pleas: please furnish our household with some toddler dancing DVDs or -- ahem -- torrents. Will it, fundamentally, make me any more fun? Maybe not, but can a thirteen month old tell when you're faking it? I'll report back with my findings.
Reader Comments (1)
When Bea was that age we went to library storytimes and learned a few new songs and rhymes, which we then repeated ad nauseam at home. It was totally fun for her! I kinda had fun too. :)
I'm finding that I have more fun when I feel comfortable, so I tend to shy away from the performance kind of fun and towards the shared experience fun. I paint watercolours alongside the kids. I make a lopsided sculpture of a face when they're smushing clay. The older Bea gets the easier I find it to have fun together.