I just realized why women are meant to be young when they are having babies. It occurred to me today that I'm in no condition to care for a baby. A baby of mine would choke to death, or in some other neglect-related incident while in my care, and here's why I'm afraid of that happening.
Yesterday I was cleaning up around the coffee table and I picked up a tack...you know, those colorful plastic ones, shaped kind of like a top hat? The ones that are so much easier to pull out of the cork board than the flat ones....perhaps another sign of my age. Anyway, I accidentally dropped it and it bounced on the ground and disappeared, either blending in with the crazy colored oriental rug, or on the floor somewhere else, like under the edge of the couch or something.
I hesitated for a few seconds, running through my head the scenarios of what would happen if I left it. A possibility was that I'd step on it. Ouch. Or, Husband would step on it...ouch with a few bad words. Or, one of the boys would step on it, and yes, it would hurt, but more importantly it might happen right before school, and the stepper would try to use it as an excuse to stay home. NOT HAVING IT. So, I made my way down to the floor, intent on finding the tack and picking it up, preserving everyone's feet and my quiet during the day.
As I laid flat on my stomach, looking across the carpet for any sort of projectile object (aside from tortilla chip pieces and popcorn kernels) I realized that not only had I lowered myself down in phases (down on my right knee, then my left, then my right hand, then my left, then walked my hands out until I was on my elbows, then kind of wiggled my torso down to the floor, then lowered my right arm flat and then my left arm flat...and yes, it took as long to do it as it took to write it,) but also that once I was down, it was almost comfortable and I didn't want to get back up right away. Once I was down, I realized it was going to be an effort to get up, and that I might even use the coffee table to help me up. (An image of my Nana doing the exact same thing popped into my head, except my face was on her body.) How did I do this 'up and down' thing dozens of times each day, just a mere five or six years ago? I know I made a LOT less noise when I did it, too. And when I say "I" made noise, it doesn't just mean the sighing, but my knees and elbows as well.
But it isn't just my physical state...after all, women of all ages have babies and take care of them perfectly well. Rather, it was my attitude about finding the tack. Since I didn't see the tack anywhere, and looking for it involved more effort, I did a quick assessment in my head and decided to leave it. I was measurably relieved that no one here would put it in their mouth if they found it, and slightly concerned that I had considered leaving it even if they would.
I have a feeling that this post is one of those things that will come back to haunt me, like if we ever decided we wanted to try and adopt a baby, ("Leaving the tack on the floor? Oh, that was just a joke,(nervous laugh) really, a total joke. I don't let babies play with anything pokey or dangerous. The pencil lead that's embedded Son 1's eyebrow was just a freak incident a long time ago and if he weren't blond, wouldn't even be that obvious. Really.", or if I ever apply for a job at a children's advocacy group or something. Or, if one of my kids steps on a tack and ends up in the ER.
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