Blokes and Babies
When I lived in Sweden one of the things that struck me was the amount of men I saw out and about with their kids during the week. This no doubt had a lot to do with their maternity/paternity laws, which meant you got extra paid parenting leave if the father took some of it (I think). For some reason I found it infinately fascinating to watch these daddies wrangle the large winter prams on and off the buses and through supermarket aisles, to see packs of men and children doing lunch together, and papa bears collecting the older kids from school. There is something about seeing that soft squishy side of boys that makes me think that maybe they ain't all that bad after all, and almost makes me inspired to grab one and procreate.
The other day I was doing drinks with some mates, and one of them had brought their 6ish year old daughter along. She spent most of her time mucking around with one particular male friend, and watching them interact made me all warm and fuzzy. He was fantastic with her, doing up her shoelaces and making her giggle and I was suddenly overtaken by the desire to settle down with a nice boy/butch and make babies. I remember that when I was her age (6 or 7 or so) I used to imagine being a Mummy but couldn't quite work out why you needed a Daddy. Despite having a fantastic relationship with my own Dad (and still have, bless him) I recall asking my Mum what the point of fathers was, and why I couldn't just breed on my own. For years when I considered parenting it was either as an entirely solo venture ('cept for the obvious matter of boy-juice), or with a group of women in some sort of hippy commune-type situation. Now I want a husband.
Not sure exactly what has prompted this and my last post (about shacking up). Maybe its hormonal, maybe its because yet another birthday is fast approaching and I'm still a childless spinster, maybe its because I am still pining over lost people and plans that I really believed in and was prepared to work at, maybe its because I'm lactating and its making me want to nest and nurture. I've been bethrothed three times (one man, one grrl-bear, one pet), and never got hitched. The joke isn't funny anymore. I want the boy/butch, I want the wedding ring/tattoo/cutting, I want the house, I (almost) want the babies.
The Buxom Wench has just assured me that my Prince will come. Maybe. Maybe I already had my Prince and I lost him/her. Maybe s/he is here now and I just can't recognise it. Maybe I am my own Prince?
Or maybe my Prince has already kissed me and is just waiting for me to wake up?
The other day I was doing drinks with some mates, and one of them had brought their 6ish year old daughter along. She spent most of her time mucking around with one particular male friend, and watching them interact made me all warm and fuzzy. He was fantastic with her, doing up her shoelaces and making her giggle and I was suddenly overtaken by the desire to settle down with a nice boy/butch and make babies. I remember that when I was her age (6 or 7 or so) I used to imagine being a Mummy but couldn't quite work out why you needed a Daddy. Despite having a fantastic relationship with my own Dad (and still have, bless him) I recall asking my Mum what the point of fathers was, and why I couldn't just breed on my own. For years when I considered parenting it was either as an entirely solo venture ('cept for the obvious matter of boy-juice), or with a group of women in some sort of hippy commune-type situation. Now I want a husband.
Not sure exactly what has prompted this and my last post (about shacking up). Maybe its hormonal, maybe its because yet another birthday is fast approaching and I'm still a childless spinster, maybe its because I am still pining over lost people and plans that I really believed in and was prepared to work at, maybe its because I'm lactating and its making me want to nest and nurture. I've been bethrothed three times (one man, one grrl-bear, one pet), and never got hitched. The joke isn't funny anymore. I want the boy/butch, I want the wedding ring/tattoo/cutting, I want the house, I (almost) want the babies.
The Buxom Wench has just assured me that my Prince will come. Maybe. Maybe I already had my Prince and I lost him/her. Maybe s/he is here now and I just can't recognise it. Maybe I am my own Prince?
Or maybe my Prince has already kissed me and is just waiting for me to wake up?
posted by Zoo at 7:53 pm
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