Friday, July 10, 2009

New Mom!

Chicks are in the house!

A 6:30AM ring from the P.O. launched Blue and I to quest for our new P.O. and the mysterious "side door" from which to make our pick up before official hours.

En Route, I summoned all my bonding hormones. They lined up in formation and I barked my instructions: new chicks, be sure to think they are cute, never liked chickens before. Your mission: make me want to at least try to keep them alive. Make it so.

It was similar to the moments before I became a mother. Never a baby person, never one to coo over lil' booties and bottoms, I was worried I wouldn't be all that in to my kids. But, when I had em, it was great. And now I know what babies are all about and I love, love, love em. And knowing what babies are about, I am so happy when OTHER PEOPLE HAVE THEM! Beautiful greedy monster angels!

Anyway, to my relief, I do like the baby chicks, they are pretty cute, and they are not too cute. They are not human babies and I'm not really wired to lay down my life for them, but we are getting along nicely.

I am a little jealous of their species however. And I think we humans really drew the short straw when it comes to offspring preparedness. Here is a bitter compare/contrast:

Chickens: eggs
Humans: live, excruciating birth, sometimes consuming several otherwise perfectly good days

Chickens: circadian rhythm at day 1
Humans: circadian rhythm after 5 years of tribulations and chronic sleep deprivation of all household inhabitants

Chickens: preen selves and moderate temperature at day one
Humans: preen selves after two full decades of nagging, at the earliest and must be contorted and/or cajoled through several changes of clothing a day over several seasons over the period of several decades, not to exclude the teen years.

Chickens: eat the same foods in the first moments of life as they will for their entire lives.
Humans: struggle through several life threatening transitions: breast milk to sippy cup and getting whatever they'll consent to eat, to having to eat whatever gets plopped on the table.

Chickens: can walk upon exiting the egg
Humans: can walk after 1-2 years, before which they monopolize their mothers arms preventing her from accomplishing pretty much anything, to include feeding herself.

BOOO! HISSS!! I hear the critics now! They are everywhere! They are outspoken gay couples -always the men!- who stop me on the street to give their special critiques of my parenting (OH! YES! IT has happened SOOO many times, including just this week! And to clarify, I'm NOT saying here that ALL gay men are every mothers worst critic, I'm just saying that those that are, are really snarky and mean and seem WAY too entitled to stick their noses where they don't belong. This latest scathing review came because I was observing and photographing my children's 4th of July parade down our block rather than participating. And because this subject can also be sooo touchy, I will also clarify that most (but not all) of my gay friends (as opposed to random, assumption filled jerks off the street) have been consistently supportive of parents and parenting be it the same style they prefer or like, or not, and whether they themselves are parents, or not. And I'm not saying that I know those jerks are gay because I saw them doing it, but because I have a highly attuned gaydar which I consider absolutely necessary because I have accidentally dated several gay men, but that gaydar is probably not flawless, so these men holding hands in the blue convertible may not be for sure gay, which is not a bad thing, nor is it not a bad thing, per se, but just to note that they appeared to be gay and so I have classified them as such, but such classifications are not necessary to justify my disgust at such a presumptuous critique), they are the old lady in the grocery store cursing me for naming my children so terribly, they are every person who has never had kids, they are my friends with different parenting philosophies (but they don't recognize them as differing but equally legitimate parenting philosophies, they view them as right and wrong), they are my family, they are within me: BAD BAD MOM! How could you speak so candidly about human parenting... and by the way, you know... if you'd do a better job of it you wouldn't have anything to moan about.

And just to kick me while I'm down I'll post this photo of my kitchen less than 24hrs after I had it spotlessly clean. Gremlins must live here:

SOOOO, I'll give you the sweets you sugar addicts need:
Humans get to hang out longer with their offspring.
Humans are not biologically obligated to get reproducing at 6 months of age.
Humans are much more complex, for instance our ability to criticize each other is more varied and nuanced and specific and linguistic. Sometimes I'd prefer a little peck to the full scale verbal assault, however.
And also, we get bored just pecking at the ground, which is either a blessing or yet another curse of not being chicken.


  1. This is the third time I've tried to post a comment to your blog!! Damn it, I'm getting pissed off! The first one was brilliant, the second one far less so, and this one is just to say I appreciate what you write and especially what you write that validates your feelings about being a mother and all that goes with it. More later. Keep it up. (My password keeps getting rejected, even though I've reset it many times).

  2. Hi, I'm Rachel C's sister-in-law. Just wanted to let you know I've been enjoying your blog. I'm also a mom, and a fan of chickens (I'm trying to talk Ryan into a few).



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