Babies and Old People

I love babies and old people. Anybody in between? I have nothing to say to you. Once you hit 12, you are dead to me until your 75th birthday.

You know, I'm going to be honest with you. I've felt really intimidated and shy about posting here on Accident for stupid reasons.

I don't have a baby. I don't feel like I'm in the club. The close knit baby club. The club one can only get into if one has a child, has given birth to a child, or is attempting to become pregnant with child. I have no clue what that's like. I'm not sure that I'll ever want to.

So, I haven't really been sure how to give to this place, you know? What I have to offer. Why you all would find interesting anything that I had to say... So I've been writing about boogers and dancing cow girls.

But, you know what? I COULD give birth to a baby. If I WANTED to. I got me some eggs. I got me a womb. Shit. I'm practically TWINS with you pod people.

I've also wanted to challenge myself to write one of those classic Trista posts where she goes in those intricate circles of diatribe and discovery and touches on so many different questions and answers and fears and home improvement and poetry... How the hell does she do that?

I was a baby once. I had jaundice. I was a little yellow baby. My mother's doctor told her that sunshine was the best cure. I spent the first weeks of my life naked on the windowsill in my mother's kitchen...soaking up the sun. I like that. I like thinking back to my baby self happy and naked on the windowsill. Greeting life and sun and warmth.

One of my uncles used to say that if he had any time on his hands, he liked to think back. He liked to make himself remember what he was doing last week, last month, a year ago, 10 years ago. He said sometimes he'd get to remembering so much that he'd go back as far as when he was two. One time, he said, and he may have been full of shit, but he said he thought back and back and remembered being a baby in a cradle. He saw the mobile above his head... He thought back further... Things went black. Dark and warm and he heard a heart beat. He said he got scared and stopped himself from going any further.

I'm not sure what this has to do with anything other than my contest to myself to write a big ol classically lengthy Trista post, but. I guess... Well. We remember, you know? Whatever your little baby is doing right now be it discovering his new feet or eating some green pureed whatever baby food or swimming around in your tummy. There is a brain there and that brain will remember. Touch. Sound. Feeling. Color. Warmth. Voice....

Sunshine and skin.

Posted by Plimco @ 8:53 AM

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Yeah. I give myself a 3.7 out of 10 on the quest for the big ol Trista post. That font is so tiny, you could write forevah and it looks like a paragraph. How does she DO that? She must have a lot to say...

Posted by Blogger Plimco @ 9:20 AM #

I liked your post Plimco! and I'm on your club ;) I don't have any baby nor making one nor planning on having one, so there, don't feel like an outcast, heehee

Posted by Blogger Sublime @ 9:22 AM #

I like the idea of a baby the window, soaking up sun:) That seems like a good way to start your life.

Posted by Blogger Lauri @ 9:38 PM #

The "he" in that final paragraph referring to a baby? This is an actual boy baby I know...on someone's blog...who just discovered his feet. Just to clear that up for anyone assuming I was playing in to the patriarchy....

Posted by Blogger Plimco @ 7:52 AM #
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