Maternal Instincts Re-Instated?

Today I had a moment. No, it was not just a moment, it was an epiphany of a moment. You know, like the epiphany of moments that probably resulted in J.K. Rowling visualizing the Harry Potter series while broke and on her way home on a train? Now I had a epiphany of a moment today which totally opened my eyes to exactly how I feel about kids.

My mom had my youngest brother when I was seven years old. To me, he was my first child. I fed him. I changed him. I gave him baths. I combed his hair. I punished him. I comforted him when he was hurt. I helped him with his homework. I chastised him out when he is rude. We have our movie nights. He is very protective of me. He is my baby! Sure I didn’t give birth to him but he is still mine.

I don’t know how or when it happened but somewhere along the way I grew scared of babies. I had mental panic attacks when I held them and so, couldn’t hold them for long. No matter how cute they were, I preferred them big. I hated the thought of giving birth and found myself vowing I would only have one unless I ended up with twins. I couldn’t imagine having anymore. If I was honest to myself, I would have realized in that moment that I was fine not giving birth to any. I only started making those vows because it was what persons expected me to say. They had no meaning behind them.

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I am a Jamaican but…

I have many friends across the world and I always look forward to meeting new ones. One of the things that really bugs me is that when I tell foreigners that I’m Jamaican, they immediately stereotype me. The sad but funny thing about this is that the stereotype couldn’t be further from the truth. Stereotyping me or any other Jamaican for that matter is like saying that a girl is fat because she eats a lot. After all, we have skinny people who eats way too much but never seem to put on an ounce.

jamaican

So here goes, I’m Jamaican but…

  1. I can’t dance to save my life: There ain’t no shame in this game. I lack co-ordination when it comes to dancing. Growing up, my younger sister was the dancer while I was the “bookworm”. The few times I have had to perform, I either got my family rolling with laughter or the wall and I got in tune as I rocked to the beat of the music. I don’t go beyond rocking! So when someone ask me to dance because of my “Jamaican-ness”, I do nothing but laugh because my Jamaican-ness did not ensure my dancing capabilities.

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