Sunday, May 9, 2010
Happy Mother's Day?: A Dissertation by Samuel Barrett Tilgner
How are you? I am fine. I woke up extra early on Mother's Day to write you this post. I have watched you as you pound away at your keyboard obsessively for the past 7 months (which, coincidentally, is how long I have been alive), so I feel that I now have the psycho-social tools and manual dexterity needed to add my own thoughts to your growing online journal.
In honour of your first true Mother's Day, I would like to present a list of your accomplishments that I am proudest of. Although my neurological and cognitive functions are still forming to provide me with the ability to remember things for longer than 5 seconds, I would like to try and present my "Best Of" moments in chronological order. Please bear with me if you find any flaws in my presentation. I am, after all, a baby.
#1 - Conceiving Me (Or getting 'Knocked Up' as the tweens are calling it):
Kudos! My understanding is this is harder than it looks. Not that I've seen it from the outside, but my reliable sources confirm that simply getting two people to rub together to make a new person is, at times, trying. Congratulations on performing sexually for father while your cervical mucus was at its most receptive.
#2 - Successful carrying to term:
Again, my thanks! Harder than it looks. Way to not 'Drop the Ball' as coach used to say.
#3 - Delivery of Me:
Hmm - I wish I could give you full marks for this, but unfortunately, this event was entirely disruptive to my schedule. And the fact that I was pulled sticky from your womb from a front incision instead of the practiced 'vaginal delivery' was completely bush-league. However, results are results, and thank you for making my first breath (45 seconds later) a decent one.
#4 - Breastfeeding:
We've got a long history on this one Mom, and it's easy to forget how hard it was for everyone that first night and the following weeks. Thank you for pushing through raw nipples and psychotic insomnia episodes to work with me on making this a successful venture. The fact that Dad held my head while someone cut my tongue is a minor quibble when you consider that I am, in fact, still alive.
#5 - Changing my diapers:
Thank you for making this potentially embarrassing time in my life calm and respectful. Despite your disturbing obsession with washing cloth diapers for weeks at a time, your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Wherever I am in my life, whenever I have a load in my pants, I will think of you.
#6 - Cuddles:
I don't think we need to expand on this issue, except to say, keep up the good work.
#7 - Crying to sleep:
Now really, this was something I wasn't going to write about, because I am still undecided at this time. Crying? To sleep? Really? This is what conclusion you came to after months of research and metric evaluation? I see you with your notepad, scribbling down when I go to sleep, wake up, demand to be fed and so on. All of those numbers came to 'Maybe we should just leave him alone for a while?' My question to you, dear Mother, is couldn't we have come to this conclusion by throwing darts at a shelf of baby advice books?
Regardless, I'm sleeping fine now, and I grudgingly thank you for your help in giving me this important life skill. However, to compensate, I will have to insist on more of #6.
#8 - Nicknames (A partial list):
You are not the only culprit in this manifesto, Mother. Father, or "Dad" as you refer to him seems to be bent on not letting any of these cutesy terms disappear from our conversations. So far, I have been called:
Samantha (when I'm crying)
Green Eggs and Sam
Sam-Bot (The Bio-Mechanical Sam...What the Hell?)
Big Red Crying Heavy Sam-Face (I'm not making this one up...)
Sam-Bort (Again, WTF?)
Samanthaaaaaaar! (I get it. I'm supposed to like Pirates.)
Samotage (while Dad insisting he then sings the only 3 lines from Beastie Boys 'Sabotage' he knows)
Little Crying Robot Baby (which your friends started, I believe)
Quite frankly, enough is enough. In our world of conflicting gender and identity issues, THIS is how you choose to build up my ego? But I digress: This is a post of thanking, not blaming. Thank you for loving me enough to come up with silly names. Sambot makes me laugh. Grudgingly.
#9 - Solid Food
This is A-Number 1! So far I have avoided allergic reactions, choking on Cheerios (perhaps because of your repeated warnings to Father of 'Don't let him choke on the Cheerios...) and have enjoyed food which is, quite frankly, of better quality than you eat. And you may not realize it, but I am very appreciative of the extra money you spend on organic meat...although I feel that when I get picked for the team, I will be the smallest boy there: My compatriots will have had a lifetime of being fed cattle growth hormones. Never mind that - The large are slow and can be used to carry heavy things for their betters.
#10 - My Hair
This certainly did not come from Dad, although perhaps his? Hard to tell. Suffice to say it is the one feature that has been the biggest draw in public. The outcrying of adoration from my growing fan base has made me realize just how precious physical attractiveness is. I will treasure it always. I certainly hope it will allow me to "mack" on the "ladies" later in life. Although you may not share this wish.
Mother, thank you so much for taking the time to read these important and innermost thoughts that I have been building on for months. I feel that it is critical at this juncture in both our lives that we are open and honest with each other. Know that when I sing into a stuffed rabbit's face, or put pureed apples into my eyes, I am really just saying "Mother, Thank You for making all of this possible."
Please consider this link to Pink Floyd's "Mother" as my tribute to you. Its reflections on Cold War Hysteria really fit with our home life paradigms, don't you agree?
Love you always and always,
Your Son, Sam (Sambot)