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8 EXPOSED October, 2007 MUSING ABOUT By Sarah Shonyo • just another one of • 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. • • • • • •
“You’re glowing!” the saleswoman exclaimed. October, 2007 EXPOSED 9 “I’m sweating.” I replied. In fact, forget mandating sex education in schools. Just strap one of those bellies onto high school girls, stuff them in a sun dress, and force them to contemplate their reflection in a three-way mirror. They’ll never touch a boy again. Or better yet, have them tag along to an OB/Gyn appointment. My sister’s seven month check-up happened to fall on my 23rd birthday. Because I was in town and had nothing better to do, I agreed to accompany her to the appointment. An appointment I totally lost interest in after the doctor astutely remarked that Emily and I looked so much alike she could hardly tell which one of us was pregnant. Southern Minnesota’s School of Choice Courses offered: • Cosmetology • Esthiology (Skin Therapist) • Nail Technology That’s right, I said seven month check-up. The last month of Emily’s pregnancy happened to be an unusually busy time in my life. I was set to close on my first home purchase on the 16th of December and then had a big holiday housewarming party planned for the 23rd. “Emily,” I said to her one November afternoon, “if you love me you won’t go into labor on the 16th or 23rd. Seriously, just forget the castor oil and keep your legs crossed till Christmas.” Rivercenter Plaza 1629 North Broadway Suite 7 Rochester, MN 55906 • 507.280.6910 www.nova-academy.com 1003509998P Oliver was born at 11:30 p.m. on December 23rd, 2005. I’m not going to lie, having a baby around was a huge adjustment. Not that he really did a whole lot at first. I actually wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. Eventually, once Oliver’s skull hardened and I could touch him without having to worry about bruising his brain (I read that in a book somewhere), my awkwardness gave way to genuine adoration. I spoon fed him green bean pulp, set his picture as my desktop background, risked bodily harm by shopping at a toy store during Christmas season, and yes, I even changed his diaper once. YOUR BUSINESS If you would like to promote your business, your products, and/or services in Naturally, I’ve declared myself the best aunt ever. Sarah Shonyo is a Rochester native who swore she’d never move back. But did. Photos by Exposed’s Amber Stammen call 507-281-7437 for Stacie Hammer or email her at stacie@rochesterexposed.com 1003510432P
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