bahamianpride
05-17-07, - 01:34 PM
Nuclear family blues
http://www.thenassauguardian.com/editorial/308062237824649.php
Last time my wife chastised me for telling the world that our firstborn, Joshua Clayton, had a big head. Personally I didn't see the big deal but she said people will be saying to him, "Hey, you's dat boy who daddy say he head big!" for the rest of his life, thanks to me. And people have actually come up to me and asked me how my big head child was doing. (The nerve of dese BaHAMians!). Then, last night she tell me I must look at the boy neck as well, cause that big head restin on a pretty skinny pole. (See, woman, be careful what you tell me, cause you don't know when it'll end up in the paper).
And while I'm disclosing private conversations, I can tell you all, BaHAMaland, that da woman still refuse to take responsibility for the size of the boy head. I KNOW is my fault he loud, so own up to your end! The arresting eyes, the glowing skin, the incredible smile, and his generously proportioned noggin are all courtesy of my wife.
Well any-who, since my last installment, me and da woman gone mess around and bring a NEXT child into this screwy world. This one was born in January. Two boys! I know Mumma laughing at me up there in heaven. "Now you ga see," she prob'ly sayin.
Lemme don't act surprise. Cause I really ain't. My pa had seven sons and one daughter, so I tell the woman don't get her hopes up. I tell my mudda in law the same thing. You think they listen to reason?
And what's wit' all dese people who keep telling us to go and try for a girl? Where are these people when it's time to buy pampers? When it's time to change pampers? When it's time to do any of the back breakin, sleep-deprivin, ear-drum piercing, nostril-singeing tasks of parenthood? Nowhere to be found, that's where. And they want us TRY FOR A GIRL!
That's dangerous. There should be a fine charged against people who want to encourage a couple to put itself in danger of madness and the poorhouse like that. Besides, we'll be tryin for a boy till Thy Kingdom Come. When you look we end up with 5 boys like my Mum did?
Anyway, there I was in Double D's at about 2 am, waiting on my check for the grits, bacon, sausage and toast I swallowed almost whole, when the thought occurred to me that da woman might actually have the baby before I get there and I would be in real trouble! Now, you're probably wondering what I was doing in Double D's in the first place when my wife was at hospital. I could explain.
The doctor said we had to wait for her contractions to get stronger. He wasn't specific about how long we'd have to wait. He went into the nurses' area and started playing Solitaire. I figured I was in for a long night so I went for some coffee and some grub . . . to Double D's by the Bridge.
Needless to say I almost missed everything! I got there just in time for the most primal, brutal thing I ever saw! Did I say brutal? I mean beautiful. See, when the first boy was born everything was civil. Someone gave her a shot in the spine and she didn't feel the pain after that. When the doctor said push she pushed. It was hard work but there was no screaming.
This time, she screamed like a banshee. Then the woman tried to stand up in the bed! (There was no time for an epidural apparently). The nurse kept asking me if I was OK. Guess she thought I might faint. There was no danger of that but I was a little stunned by what I had seen. O, the bravery of women!
Now David Ashton is about 5 months. He does not have an oversized head or a pole for a neck. In fact he looks like me, which presents its own problems. (I've been told I look like a frog). We've nicknamed him Lord Spiticus because of how much he slobbers. The boy should work for Water and Sewerage; he could help solve our water supply problems in the capital.
He likes it when you pull him up and let him stand. It makes him laugh. My wife doesn't like it when I let go of him while he's "standing" and he almost falls. But he smiles when I do it, so I ignore her.
I like to smell him and put him up against my face. You really can't have him close without wanting to kiss him. He's perfect really, except for the outtie belly button. (I told da woman to take him back and have it fixed. But she's ignoring me.)
It remains to be seen if Ashton will try to kill himself everyday like Clay does. For my wife's sake I hope not. See, I grew up with four brothers and I was pretty troublesome when I was a kid, so nothing they do surprises me. She, however, was the furthest thing from a tom boy possible, so having a child climb a sofa, fall from it and buck his head with a scream, and then try to climb it again two minutes later, seems a little strange to her.
She'll get used to it. After having five sons my mother used to watch Chicago Bulls games like the rest of us and root for Jordan like nobody's business.
Still, this raising sons thing just got twice as hard. It really is a dangerous world out there and almost all the influences on our young males seem to be negative. How did we get like this? What went wrong in our country? And not just our country, what's wrong with men and boys period?
Dr. James Dobson, author of Bringing up Boys (2001), cites the following statistics in the USA: "Boys, when compared to girls, are six times more likely to have learning disabilities, three times more likely to be registered drug addicts, and four times more likely to be diagnosed as emotionally disturbed. They are at greater risk for schizophrenia, autism, sexual addition, alcoholism, bed wetting, and all forms of anti-social behaviour. They are twelve times more likely to murder someone, and their rate of death in car accidents is greater by 50 percent. Seventy-seven percent of delinquency-related court cases involve males . . . Boys comprise 90 percent of those in drug treatment programs and 95 percent of kids involved in juvenile court."
I WANTED sons. Statistics like that make me wonder sometimes if my head was screwed on right. I need to pray people, for these boys of mine. I need to pray that I can be there for them; be a good example, love them and not turn them into neurotics. I want to know that at least my house produced two good men, good citizens, good husbands, good fathers. Cause, Lord knows, we gat a man shortage in this BaHAMas. A serious man shortage.
I guess that's why I named them Clay and Ash. So they would remember what we humans are made of. That it's only the miracle of God's breath that animates us and it is only in as much as we seek His face that there is life and hope beyond this dust we call flesh. I pray that they will be humble and kind. They're both already absolutely beautiful. I pray that they will try to be of some use to their world and not just self-serving. I pray that they will see that I did my best.
Write me at ianstrakan@gmail.com and visit ianstrachan.wordpress.com
http://www.thenassauguardian.com/editorial/308062237824649.php
Last time my wife chastised me for telling the world that our firstborn, Joshua Clayton, had a big head. Personally I didn't see the big deal but she said people will be saying to him, "Hey, you's dat boy who daddy say he head big!" for the rest of his life, thanks to me. And people have actually come up to me and asked me how my big head child was doing. (The nerve of dese BaHAMians!). Then, last night she tell me I must look at the boy neck as well, cause that big head restin on a pretty skinny pole. (See, woman, be careful what you tell me, cause you don't know when it'll end up in the paper).
And while I'm disclosing private conversations, I can tell you all, BaHAMaland, that da woman still refuse to take responsibility for the size of the boy head. I KNOW is my fault he loud, so own up to your end! The arresting eyes, the glowing skin, the incredible smile, and his generously proportioned noggin are all courtesy of my wife.
Well any-who, since my last installment, me and da woman gone mess around and bring a NEXT child into this screwy world. This one was born in January. Two boys! I know Mumma laughing at me up there in heaven. "Now you ga see," she prob'ly sayin.
Lemme don't act surprise. Cause I really ain't. My pa had seven sons and one daughter, so I tell the woman don't get her hopes up. I tell my mudda in law the same thing. You think they listen to reason?
And what's wit' all dese people who keep telling us to go and try for a girl? Where are these people when it's time to buy pampers? When it's time to change pampers? When it's time to do any of the back breakin, sleep-deprivin, ear-drum piercing, nostril-singeing tasks of parenthood? Nowhere to be found, that's where. And they want us TRY FOR A GIRL!
That's dangerous. There should be a fine charged against people who want to encourage a couple to put itself in danger of madness and the poorhouse like that. Besides, we'll be tryin for a boy till Thy Kingdom Come. When you look we end up with 5 boys like my Mum did?
Anyway, there I was in Double D's at about 2 am, waiting on my check for the grits, bacon, sausage and toast I swallowed almost whole, when the thought occurred to me that da woman might actually have the baby before I get there and I would be in real trouble! Now, you're probably wondering what I was doing in Double D's in the first place when my wife was at hospital. I could explain.
The doctor said we had to wait for her contractions to get stronger. He wasn't specific about how long we'd have to wait. He went into the nurses' area and started playing Solitaire. I figured I was in for a long night so I went for some coffee and some grub . . . to Double D's by the Bridge.
Needless to say I almost missed everything! I got there just in time for the most primal, brutal thing I ever saw! Did I say brutal? I mean beautiful. See, when the first boy was born everything was civil. Someone gave her a shot in the spine and she didn't feel the pain after that. When the doctor said push she pushed. It was hard work but there was no screaming.
This time, she screamed like a banshee. Then the woman tried to stand up in the bed! (There was no time for an epidural apparently). The nurse kept asking me if I was OK. Guess she thought I might faint. There was no danger of that but I was a little stunned by what I had seen. O, the bravery of women!
Now David Ashton is about 5 months. He does not have an oversized head or a pole for a neck. In fact he looks like me, which presents its own problems. (I've been told I look like a frog). We've nicknamed him Lord Spiticus because of how much he slobbers. The boy should work for Water and Sewerage; he could help solve our water supply problems in the capital.
He likes it when you pull him up and let him stand. It makes him laugh. My wife doesn't like it when I let go of him while he's "standing" and he almost falls. But he smiles when I do it, so I ignore her.
I like to smell him and put him up against my face. You really can't have him close without wanting to kiss him. He's perfect really, except for the outtie belly button. (I told da woman to take him back and have it fixed. But she's ignoring me.)
It remains to be seen if Ashton will try to kill himself everyday like Clay does. For my wife's sake I hope not. See, I grew up with four brothers and I was pretty troublesome when I was a kid, so nothing they do surprises me. She, however, was the furthest thing from a tom boy possible, so having a child climb a sofa, fall from it and buck his head with a scream, and then try to climb it again two minutes later, seems a little strange to her.
She'll get used to it. After having five sons my mother used to watch Chicago Bulls games like the rest of us and root for Jordan like nobody's business.
Still, this raising sons thing just got twice as hard. It really is a dangerous world out there and almost all the influences on our young males seem to be negative. How did we get like this? What went wrong in our country? And not just our country, what's wrong with men and boys period?
Dr. James Dobson, author of Bringing up Boys (2001), cites the following statistics in the USA: "Boys, when compared to girls, are six times more likely to have learning disabilities, three times more likely to be registered drug addicts, and four times more likely to be diagnosed as emotionally disturbed. They are at greater risk for schizophrenia, autism, sexual addition, alcoholism, bed wetting, and all forms of anti-social behaviour. They are twelve times more likely to murder someone, and their rate of death in car accidents is greater by 50 percent. Seventy-seven percent of delinquency-related court cases involve males . . . Boys comprise 90 percent of those in drug treatment programs and 95 percent of kids involved in juvenile court."
I WANTED sons. Statistics like that make me wonder sometimes if my head was screwed on right. I need to pray people, for these boys of mine. I need to pray that I can be there for them; be a good example, love them and not turn them into neurotics. I want to know that at least my house produced two good men, good citizens, good husbands, good fathers. Cause, Lord knows, we gat a man shortage in this BaHAMas. A serious man shortage.
I guess that's why I named them Clay and Ash. So they would remember what we humans are made of. That it's only the miracle of God's breath that animates us and it is only in as much as we seek His face that there is life and hope beyond this dust we call flesh. I pray that they will be humble and kind. They're both already absolutely beautiful. I pray that they will try to be of some use to their world and not just self-serving. I pray that they will see that I did my best.
Write me at ianstrakan@gmail.com and visit ianstrachan.wordpress.com