letters to the editors - Rochestermn.com

8 EXPOSED October, 2007
MUSING ABOUT
By Sarah Shonyo
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just another one of
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As a general rule, children make
me incredibly nervous.
By no means would I consider myself a person who hates
or even dislikes children. I don’t mind looking at them,
and even exchange a smile with the occasional toddler
waddling down the street. I appreciate their position as
the future leaders of this earth and recognize (at the ripe
age of 24) that a child I know today may very well be the
one wheeling me down to ladies’ night at the bingo hall
during my golden years.
However, when it comes to communication with a child
beyond the fleeting non-verbal or abstract appreciation, I
am at a loss. Maybe it’s because of their blatant honesty,
sticky faces, or complete disregard for personal bubbles. I
fear that which I do not understand.
Like most teenagers, I did my fair share of baby-sitting.
I never solicited my services as a baby-sitter, nor did I
actively seek families with young children to care for.
No, it was much more underhanded than that. After my
sister, Emily, reached childcare retirement the families
she served must have assumed I was the next best thing.
Physical similarities aside, where she is inherently nurturing,
maternal, and patient, I am pragmatic, analytical,
and have the attention span of a gnat.
Not surprisingly, Emily pursued a master’s degree in
mental health counseling with an emphasis in adolescents
while I had my heart set on criminal psychology.
Our populations of interest, as I once explained to my
parents, were really only differentiated by age and number
of tattoos.
My fear of children never proved to be much of an issue
given my relatively limited exposure to them. That is, until
the day my sister decided to mess everything up and
announced that she was pregnant. Once I picked my
jaw up off the floor and doled out the obligatory hugs, I
faced the realization that not only had I just been given
the role of Aunt Sarah (which I understood as “crazy,
single Aunt Sarah”), but this child was going to be very
much a part of my life.
Pregnancy does funny things to people. I think it made
my sister temporarily blind. She began wearing maternity
pants at 16 weeks because she “just couldn’t believe
how comfortable they were.” Never mind the front panel
that nearly reached her chin or the expandable rear-end.
In an attempt to save her from permanent fashion
impairment, I stopped by a pregnant lady store to buy a
dress for her to wear when other people could actually
tell she was pregnant. A very cheery (and very expectant)
saleswoman greeted me at the door and helped me
maneuver through a horde of protruding belly buttons
and swollen ankles to find what I was looking for.
Somewhere between the booties and breast pumps,
the saleswoman must have slipped me something.
Before I realized what was
happening, she was strapping
a massive flesh-colored belly
around my waist. I was then instructed to
try on the dresses in order to ensure a proper fit for my
similarly-built sister.
My barefoot and pregnant reflection in that brown sun
dress has been permanently emblazoned in the very
deepest and darkest part of my mind.
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