Friday, March 05, 2010
Doom and Gloom
What was I going to say? I'm tired. But this blog won't write itself. Neither will my 116 project. What was I going to say? Oh yeah. I'm reading this book. The first story in the book is about a family living on streets and how the parents get the kids to sniff glue so they won't be hungry (and somehow he keeps it lighthearted). I woke up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep and remembered why it hit me so hard.
In 2001, I was living in Estonia and a bunch of us went on a trip to Russia. We were taking the subway to somewhere in Moscow and I remember we got off the train, went through the turnstiles or whatever, and there I saw this group of kids, maybe ranging in ages from six to twelve, kind of lying in a heap against the wall, completely high on glue. I remember locking eyes with one and the look... that look... it's creepy when you see it in an adult. It's soul-wrenching when you see it in a kid, that vacant, stoned look. I remember thinking, how could a parent, any parent, let their little kid end up like this? I think the book is helping me understand a little better. Even if one is Africa and one is Russia. Poverty is poverty.
And here's where I make a totally irrational leap in topics to admit that my child scares me a little. Oh, he's beautiful and funny and cuddly and loving and I'm enraptured with him. But a part of me knows that this kid has the power to break my heart by breaking himself. I often think about how that could happen. He could destroy himself and I may not be able to stop him.
Oh, I know, holy cow, no wonder I was on pills. And what's the use of even thinking like that? Enjoy the moment, etc., etc.. It could go the other way, anyhow, right? He could grow up, become amazing and support his parents in the manner to which they'd both very much like to become accustomed.
In 2001, I was living in Estonia and a bunch of us went on a trip to Russia. We were taking the subway to somewhere in Moscow and I remember we got off the train, went through the turnstiles or whatever, and there I saw this group of kids, maybe ranging in ages from six to twelve, kind of lying in a heap against the wall, completely high on glue. I remember locking eyes with one and the look... that look... it's creepy when you see it in an adult. It's soul-wrenching when you see it in a kid, that vacant, stoned look. I remember thinking, how could a parent, any parent, let their little kid end up like this? I think the book is helping me understand a little better. Even if one is Africa and one is Russia. Poverty is poverty.
And here's where I make a totally irrational leap in topics to admit that my child scares me a little. Oh, he's beautiful and funny and cuddly and loving and I'm enraptured with him. But a part of me knows that this kid has the power to break my heart by breaking himself. I often think about how that could happen. He could destroy himself and I may not be able to stop him.
Oh, I know, holy cow, no wonder I was on pills. And what's the use of even thinking like that? Enjoy the moment, etc., etc.. It could go the other way, anyhow, right? He could grow up, become amazing and support his parents in the manner to which they'd both very much like to become accustomed.
posted by Working From Home Today
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4 comments:
~ 9:20 AMMonica..... what you are feeling is perfectly normal..... We all have that worry when we have kids... All we can do is bring them up the best way we know how, give them what they need materially and emotionally; teach them right from wrong, and hope for the best...most of the time we are lucky, and we have wonderful, supportive, adult kids... Rick and I have been very lucky with our kids, and the partners that they picked..... (by the way.... we all refuse to let Mac take the wrong path). |