Friday, 24 January 2014

Nectarines

Ooooooohweeee. I think "food aversion" has kicked in. As in, the supermarket nearly killed me last night. Killed is strong but I was very very close to spewing (and I never spew. Never. In fact, it terrifies me). So I took a deep breath before I could smell the food and played something close to Supermarket Sweep. A mad dash through the fresh produce turned up some lemons and some nectarines. I almost bought pomegranates (couldn't get enough of them earlier this week) but the thought of the little red juicy seeds made (and is still making) me wretch. So I didn't. Next, a run down the cereal aisle - fewer smells = less traumatic - for porridge oats, and finally onto the non-offensive hygiene aisles for deodorant, moisturiser, TP and kitchen paper.

It took me what felt like an age to choose the loo roll. I usually buy the eco recycled ones in paper packaging but recently that paper hasn't been holding up too well. So I compared all three recycled brands and each looked scratchier than the next. Had to grab and run when another wave of nausea hit and got home to find I bought non recycled. Quelle horreur! The shame. My subconscious must like soft, bouncy paper that fingers don't go through. 

No idea what we'll have for dinner tonight (nectarines probably, we have an abundance), but at least I'll have soft skin and fresh smelling underarms AND I won't be drip drying. Bonus.



I've been thinking a lot about how we'll be as parents, whether as a result of this pregnancy or in the future. There are some funny ideas about respect, specifically respecting your parents, floating around our marriage - none of which emanate from my side of the bed. If my child(ren) respecting me means being polite and not telling me anything which might upset me, or that I don't want to hear, then that's the kind of superficial respect that I have no time for. I wasn't raised perfectly by any stretch of the imagination, and I've felt stranded for most of my life, but I did and do respect my parents. Being told (in my twenties) "you have no respect for your parents if you can tell them to fuck off when you're arguing", well that in itself is disrespectful to me and my relationship with my parents and pretends to know a lot more about our relationship than is actually known. We are all a bit hotheaded in my family, easily able to be screaming and slamming doors one minute (usually arguing about ideas, politics, whatever), and finishing dinner perfectly pleasantly on a different topic the next. It doesn't mean we don't respect one another, it means we have the freedom to express ourselves and we trust our relationships enough that we know a fight won't rock any foundations. 

Respect is entirely tangled up with love and trust and communication in family relationships, and an argument doesn't signal a lack of respect any more than sitting well at the table and eating what you're told to signals respect. This is one of no
doubt many conversations we're going to have to have, and I'm going to need to pull my head in and go softly softly.


It's going to be hard to parent. To provide an environment filled with love, safety, trust, happiness, openness, respect (for self and others), discipline, morals, education... and more. And all at once. Does anyone get it totally right? Is it a step in the right direction realising through experience what you should absolutely not do? I don't want to parent like my parents, I want to parent like me, and I don't want to fuck it up.

Perhaps I should start by providing a dinner with more food groups than "nectarine".




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