Please Don't Eat the Baby

Of all the roles we play, I think being a parent is the weirdest. 

I didn’t intend to have children. So I was particularly surprised when I got knocked up at 21. It was, as these things tend to be, a “blessing in disguise” or whatever. My son is awesome and has definitely made my life better. Plus my kids are super funny and appreciate my weirdness, so there’s that. 

Anyway, I still struggle with the idea that I am a parent. My son is about to turn 12, so obviously it’s been something I’ve thought about for a while. I don’t act like other moms. Nor do I look like them. I have a very different parenting “style” (whatever that means) than others. I tell myself it’s okay, because my kids really are good people. They are polite, they are empathetic, they have big dreams of making a difference in the world, they stay out of trouble (so far). But I still question my ability to be a mother sometimes. And then I find out there’s a thing where moms feel compelled to eat newborn babies. I’ve never had that urge, so does that make me a bad mom?

I know you’re thinking that’s a crazy thing to say. But it really messed with my head. I don’t typically *like* kids (because they scare me), and I’ve never felt particularly motherly. At least, I’ve never felt motherly in the way I think mothers are supposed to feel. So to me, not ever having the urge to eat my newborn makes me wonder if, biologically, I’m not actually supposed to be a mom. Like maybe the stork made a mistake. 

Obviously I’m going to keep on doing the mom thing, because I don’t want to fuck up my kids, because I super love them, and because I also don’t have an urge to un-mother myself. But I definitely wonder about the roles we shouldn’t actually be playing but somehow accidentally play anyhow. And maybe these accidental roles fulfill some other greater purpose than what we think initially. I’m probably a little bit better of a person because I have two miniature humans who have depended on me to keep them alive and wipe their asses.