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October 17, 2009

I am reckless and impatient. I am demanding and obstinate. I am quick-tempered and sensitive. I am shy and loud. Mostly I feel undeserving of such love and devotion from these tiny small people I made out of thin air and sex inside my stomach. I abhor a cliche and yet I am one. I adore my children. I adore them recklessly and with abandon. I loathe them at times because its all too much or too tedious or too tiring or too busy or too noisy. They rarely let me sleep but somehow give me peace. They often are ungrateful but kiss me anyway.

I see lots of people around with kids, breeders-we are everywhere. Is it the same for everyone?

Do you remember being a child and wondering at the limits of your parents power? Power over how you feel, what you do and what you don’t do? I think its natural to desire approval and acceptance from your parents and it still feels weird to not have it even be an option. Or rather it can be whatever I want it to be. If there is no yard stick of a job well done, how do you know you are doing it correctly?

Parenting is impossible but solid. Immovable once you are in it.

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