I’ll try being nicer if you try being smarter!

It is September. Summer is gone. This is terribly depressing. As much as I hate hot humidity, I hate winter SO much more.

I spent the last long weekend of the summer sucking in every moment of it I could. I even have the sunburn to prove it. I went to the park and pond with the boyfriend and Zoey, got trapped into a 9 km walk home (don’t ask, stupid Exhibition blocking off the boardwalk), hung out at the airshow, went to the Ex, rode some rides, ate some mini donuts, crafted it up and hung out with friends and their bebe. Oh, and went to my first all you can eat sushi place, complete with homicidal Japanese waiter.

I also got a call from my grandmother. My grandma is the BEST. She has always been there for me, always listened, understood my problems with my mom and stuck by me when I was really sick, even offering me a place to live for that time. She is amazing. I will drop anything when I see it is her on the call display.

She’s 70, and has a way better fashion sense than me, and definitely a more active social life. If people ever comment on what I’m wearing, my response is likely to be, ‘Oh thanks, my grandma bought it for me.’ Yeah. She bought herself a bright red, two door sports car for her 65th birthday. For her 67th birthday, she went tubing on the lake for the first time. She loves beer and has a kick-ass laugh. She always had yogourt covered raisins for us in the fridge when we were little. She’d take us to the Legion with my Grandpa when we were little and score us extra maraschino cherries in our Sprites and Cokes; we were also allowed unlimited amounts of popcorn. She’s freaking awesome. I’ll beat you up if you disagree.

So yesterday she called me and we had a lovely chat. It came up that I was trying to learn how to knit, however, I suck quite a bit at it. I asked her if she knit, and if she did, if she could teach me over Christmas to refine my skills, since I don’t remember her ever doing it. It seems a bit too granny-ish for my super cool grandma. She said yes, and then asked me what I thought she was knitting right now.

Mittens? I asked. Gloves, for the winter? Dishcloths? Scarves?

No, she answered. I’m knitting BABY AFGHANS.

Oh, I replied. Who do you know who’s expecting?

Oh, she goes, nobody. These are for my *cough* great GRANDchildren that I’m expecting soon *cough cough* I have six ready to go, they’re waiting at your Aunt’s house. You know, for my GREAT GRANDbabies.

I laughed. She then informed me that a young girl she knows who tends bar at the Legion is expecting and asked my grandma to knit her a baby bunnyhug (if you don’t know what a bunnyhug is, it’s a Saskatchewan term. I’ll write about it one day. Don’t worry, not essential to the story), so she was. ‘And wouldn’t you know it, she’s only TWENTY FOUR years old! *AHEM*’ says Grandma.

This is the first time in my life that my grandmother has hinted to me that I should be moving on with my life by growing a small human inside of me. I often (often, ugh) get asked when I’m getting married, or more accurately, why I am not married yet. No, I’m not a sad singleton watching the time fly by. Nor am I morbidly obese or shockingly hideous who’s only chance to get married is to use youth as a selling point. No, no, none of that. I’ve been with the boyfriend coming up on 8 years now. *I’ll wait for the gasps to cease*. Yes, 8 years. NO, no ring. No plans of a ring. No plans of planning to plan for a ring, let alone a bloody wedding. And since I’m a staunch believer of having children only inside wedlock, no plans for kids.

People seem to be shocked by this. That I don’t have a wedding ring yet, and that I don’t try and sexually assault my boyfriend every time I can in an attempt to wind up preggers.

Are we still at this point? That once one finishes university, finds a suitable mate and sets up house that they must then create offspring? Regardless? Honestly, my biggest reason (among approximately 842 other reasons) for not having kids is this: I am afraid damn certain I will be a horrible mother. I mean, come on, if you read this blog, you know I’m not a patient or tolerant kind of gal. Insert a screaming infant, and it’s likely one of us won’t make it out alive. When I tell people this, they just smile in a patronizing way and say, “Oh, but it’ll change when you have kids.’

Um….isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard? And what if it DOESN’T change? Are you so desperate to attend baby showers and buy miniature sized everythings that you’re willing to overlook the fact that just because people CAN procreate doesn’t mean that they should? Take my mom for example. Ohhhhh, mom. I’m completely positive that she had kids because….that’s what one does. That’s what the Joneses do, so therefore, she did it too. And it scares me that people still seem to believe that this is the way it should be. My mom was NOT meant to raise kids, nurture and provide for them. Trust me. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I may echo her wonderful parenting techniques.

But how do you tell that to your Grandma?

‘Yeah, grandma, I know that at my age you already had three kids, but…..I kind of shit all over that whole lifestyle. I’m far too selfish to share my money and my time with small monsters and I’m quite sure I’ll scar them to the point where I’ll bankrupt myself trying to pay for the therapy they will require years down the road. So, um, yeah, you might want to stop knitting baby blankets now.’

Not. So. Much. But the thing is, my grandma means so much to me, I thought for a mere millionth of a millisecond that I would love to give her a great grandchild. And I would. For maybe a week or two. You know, so long as I could be guaranteed that at the age of two weeks, I would be freed from all parental responsibilities, I’d be glad to do it for her. To see the joy on her face and to wrap the kid in all sorts of knitted textiles.

Then I snapped out of it. I’m pretty sure she’ll have to wait for some of my cousins for her great grandkids. She’s more than welcome to visit Zoey, her great-granddog, but I think that’s as close as she’s getting for a bit. Does anybody have a knitting pattern for a dog bunnyhug? Maybe that’ll distract her…..


Comments on: "My grandma is amazing….just don’t mention knitting." (1)

  1. greenmetropolis said:

    Haha, reason number fucking one not to have kids: they sneeze on glass doors in places of business.

    Stupid fucking porch monkey.

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