I think caring for Smokey sometimes gives me a taste of motherhood. He woke me up several hours early this morning insisting on being fed wet food. I know that's what he was angling for. It's the same bang-your-head-against-the-wall experience every time it's been introduced in this house. He goes bananarama for it, disregards all feeding schedules and every time you so much as shift in your seat, he thinks you're getting up to go to the kitchen to feed him.
Well, he's been on it for a week because of his oral surgery, but enough's enough. I'm out of it and I'm not getting anymore. A week of recovery should be enough, considering I'm still giving him his painkillers. This cat, man. I love him terribly and often I want to throw him out the window.
So he's back on dry food. He's eating it, and I'm not giving in to his whining. I look forward to someday again being able to open the fridge without him losing his shit over it.
So since I couldn't get back to sleep, I made use of my time and cleaned the apartment. As it turns out, I'm very motivated to do grunt work early in the morning. Who knew? I certainly didn't. I can never really get going on work-work until about 10 or so and then I can hit my stride, mostly because if I poke around anymore, I'll have a hard time finishing.
But somehow housework felt like procrastinating at my job, which spurned me on. Wild. Well, no, not really wild. Actually it's just a mediocre coincidence about something mundane. Such is life, and possibly another look into motherhood. Being a parent must really fill you with an incredible amount of love to be able to keep on doing it, because frankly sometimes when I get these whiffs of what it must be like, I start to re-appreciate my vacant uterus.
There is some sort of daycare of sorts a few houses down. I see them in their yard from my top floor deck occasionally. I found them super obnoxious. Not the children, the adults. I watched for awhile and realized everything they did was structured. What ever happened to free play in children? Why don't some adults realize that anything they have to offer in the world of play is pointless compared to what children learn and discover playing freely with other children?
It's like the cornerstone of learning how to connect with your peers. It's a lot of trial and error and roughhousing and conflict and imagination at work. Why take that away? It's so arrogant and unnecessary. It's like they have no faith in these kids to figure it all out. Or they think children should never be bored.
Boredom is awesome. It makes you entertain yourself. It gives you time to think and imagine and reflect. Some of the best time I had as a kid was the time I spent alone, devising my own games, working out my own thoughts, reading, teaching myself to draw. If kids are always being given directions and following instructions for how to play, how are they ever going to figure out who they are, what they really want, or how to relate to their peers on a deeper level?
For all the drudgery that is parenthood, I do look forward to being the kind of mother I'd want my child to have and to provide a childhood I think would be beneficial. Beyond the boring everyday tasks, I think actual parenting would be satisfying.