Contrary to Popular Opinion...I Don't Eat Babies

This is me doing something completely out of character.

It's amazing what men with tattoos and lip rings can convince me to do. One even convinced me to volunteer Saturday with Creative Arts Workshops, which brings visual and performing arts to kids in East Harlem. Yup. I spent a Saturday working with inner city youths.

Anyone that knows me will find that surprising. Cuz kids? Not. My. Thing.

Here's the deal: It's not that I don't like kids. I do, to a certain extent. And it's not like I don't know how to relate to them or deal with them or that I'm scared of them or whatever whatever whatever. I'm juuuuuust not enamored. I like them, generally, in small doses. Small doses where I can have brief, fun little interactions and then HAND THEM BACK TO THEIR PARENTS very quickly...before they get cranky. And that's just with well-adjusted suburbanite children. Throw in the underlying issues inherent in a group of "at risk" kids? The vying for attention? The behavioral issues? The sheer cultural divide? Um. YIKES.

And I don't get that glowing, joyous feeling from kidlets, either. You know those people. They're the folks that just LOVE children and find them adorable and precious and God's gift and blahdy blah. The ones who squeal at babies in strollers and squat down to talk to toddlers before addressing the parents. I am not one of those.

I'm not sure from whence the disdain sprang. I think it coincided with when my mother started pressuring me to have babies. She wants to be a grandma so bad she fucking OOZES it. Last Christmas, she said to me (in all seriousness!!):

Honey, if you get to be 35 and you still aren't married and you don't have any children yet...will you PLEASE consider freezing some of your eggs?

I told her to get the hell out of my ovaries. You see this abdomen? It's got a biiiig red circle with a LINE through it.

But back to volunteering...

It was definitely an interesting day. I really was fascinated by the behavior of the kids, even if I didn't exactly like it. I found myself very curious to know where some of their behavior was rooted. Why did one little girl insist repeatedly that she was a boy? Why did one little boy suddenly go from laughing and hanging all over me to crying and refusing to make eye contact? Why did another older boy act out so badly to drive me away, and then once he succeeded, try to draw me back in by showing off his artwork?

I was so impressed that the guy who convinced me to do this actually DOES this all the time. On a regular basis. All year 'round. And LOVES it. It takes a very special person to find this kind of frustrating, demanding, exhausting work rewarding.

And as much as I kept and keep saying "this isn't ME"... Well, earlier I was recounting my experience to a friend and I found myself actually getting excited by the retelling. So I guess that means I was a *little* into it. Oy.

But, mom--this still doesn't mean grandbabies are coming ANYTIME soon.