Why I Believe I May Bear Children, Yet

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When I was young, I am told, I was unbelievably kind, compassionate and caring. I loved children, kittens, puppies and babies. I would cuddle, kiss and cajole them to happiness. Somewhere between now and then, I became a cold and heartless bitch.

Children, as a whole, irritate me. I don't mind when they are quiet and well-mannered little munchkins who giggle at the appropriate moments. But they rather vex me when they start wiping their dirty hands on your white wool pants. When they continually interrupt your conversation with screaming. When little tyrants who manage to monopolize the attention of a crowd with their rantings and tantrums.

However. The exception, is my nephew. Perhaps this is why parents tolerate reproduction. But, my ten year old nephew is the most hilarious little person that ever was. (I say "little" because not only is he small for his age, but I will always think of him as a tiny babe.) He tolerate me trying to be a cool auntie. He tends to give me his frank opinion "Yes, that makes you look fat." He does not allow me to embarrass him "No. You cannot sign my spelling paper "Auntie Sarah" It's too embarrassing." Why is it embarrassing? Because I have crazy red hair, his friend explains. However, to the same friend, he carefully corrects the pronunciation of the word "Auntie". Not like the insect, he tells him, but with a longer, more British sound to the word. He eats my mac and cheese with delight, even when it's awful. He giggles mischievously when we decide to get into trouble. And, whenever he finds out we get to spend time together, he acts like he was just told he was the godson of Willy Wonka. "Really?! YOU'RE SPENDING THE NIGHT? How cool!"

This is why people continue to reproduce. Because they have unabashed, awesome little fans. Who happen to be miniature versions of themselves.


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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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