The nursery worker at church keeps trying to get us to volunteer in the nursery. But I don’t want to. Because, why?

I’m afraid of children.

Is that completely asinine and absurd, taking into consideration that I have a child of my own?

Yes.

Is it true nonetheless?

Yes.

My first babysitting job was a 12 hour gig. I was taking care of two hellions, the sons of my middle school drama teacher. So not only was it torture from start to finish, I was under political pressure to succeed. I don’t think I did, since she never asked me to babysit again. And that was fine by me.

I think I babysat approximately 3 times. Ever. Why? Because I have a really irrational fear of other people’s kids. I just don’t know what to do with them. I thought that would probably change once I had one of my own, but no.

Some friends of ours have taken care of Button for short periods of time and we have pledged to return the favor and when they ask, we will do it willingly and gladly. But there will always be a part of me that wigs out just a little at the thought, and you can be sure that J will be there.

I have come to the conclusion that I just don’t know how to be a kid. There are people who interact with children fabulously, and many of these people have a “child-like” side to their personality. I just don’t have that. I sort of remember being a kid, but I can’t seem to remember HOW to be a kid.

I have guilt sometimes about my mommying abilities because I get terribly bored playing baby games. Reading baby books (especially more than once) can make me want to bash my head into the nearest wall. Colors, shapes, numbers…it’s like ADD takes over my brain and I can’t concentrate on something so basic. My mom can sit and play with Little Button for hours. HOURS. I just can’t. I get bored and it’s like torture to my mind.

That’s probably why Button seems to prefer spending time with Grandmommy. I guess I’m just glad that there’s somebody available to her that can jump into her world and stay there for more than 20 minutes at a time.

Although I will say that my attention span of kid-activities is growing now that she’s able to do some more interactive things. But still, there are only so many times I can willingly break out the “BUBBLES!” in a single day.

And is it me, or are Baby Einstein books the most boring, stupid, pretentious things in the world? I mean, what makes them think that my 1-year-old needs to learn about impressionist artwork? And talk about dull - like, “I’d rather sit around and count grains of rice,” dull.

We need to get more good old-fashioned storybooks.  You remember, the ones with characters and a plot?  Any suggestions?

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 24th, 2007 at 10:24 am and is filed under Childcare, Parenting. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.