Day 9: Commitment
I've reached that point in the evolution of my face where I see how, for some women, it's a real fork in the road. Your crow's feet have become permanent and the skin under your cheekbones is kind of crepe-y and oh, lord, what happened to your neck, is that a wattle? There's no going back, only forward. You can either accept it or you can hire a surgeon.
Jackson: "Mom, you should get cosmetic surgery."
Me: "Why?"
Jackson: "So you can stay young!"
And that's the belief, right there: if you look young, you are young; you're reeling away from death one collagen injection at a time. Which, of course, you're not. Old age is still waiting for you with open arms, but now it's a little creeped out by your clown lips.
The thing about Jackson is he's terrified of death and don't even try to talk him gently through it, every conversation will end in hyperventilation. He doesn't want to hear about the cycles of nature or angels or -- just don't. We took him to see "This Is It" yesterday, the Michael Jackson movie, and at first he was sort of into it because he loves the music, but then about a quarter of the way through it he turned to me and whispered, "I don't like this movie because it's about someone who's dead."
"Do you want to go take a walk?" I asked him, but he shook his head no and burrowed in close to me, and I thought he was -- I don't know what, just hanging in there. We had some popcorn. I kept my eye on him. I was prepared to go, but also half thinking of all the candy-coated kids' movies I've gone to for his sake and thinking maybe it wouldn't kill him to suck it up and sit through some totally PG thing Jack and I wanted to see. Well, wrong again, Mom, WRONG. Apparently I ruined his life by taking him to that movie and forcing him to contemplate his mortality, and also, just to ratchet it up a few more notches, by telling him there was no Santa Claus*, "MY LIFE WILL NEVER BE FUN AGAIN, MOM, NEVER, WHY DID YOU TELL ME THERE WAS NO SANTA, WHY CAN'T I HAVE A TIME MACHINE AND GO BACK IN TIME BEFORE I EVEN KNEW SANTA EXISTED!"
*a year ago
The moral of this story is twofold. One: If you're going to lie to your kids, keep it going forever. You keep on putting out reindeer food on Xmas Eve, Elfy, until the world is out of oatmeal and glitter; keep slipping money under their pillows until they're in dentures, Mrs. Tooth Fairy McLiarpants. And Two: Don't expect a child who's had nothing more to eat than a Pop Tart, half a salami sandwich, and a fistful of buttered popcorn to act like an exceptionally rational human being at the end of the day. Yeah, oops. What? I thought you gave him lunch.
Jackson: "Mom, you should get cosmetic surgery."
Me: "Why?"
Jackson: "So you can stay young!"
And that's the belief, right there: if you look young, you are young; you're reeling away from death one collagen injection at a time. Which, of course, you're not. Old age is still waiting for you with open arms, but now it's a little creeped out by your clown lips.
The thing about Jackson is he's terrified of death and don't even try to talk him gently through it, every conversation will end in hyperventilation. He doesn't want to hear about the cycles of nature or angels or -- just don't. We took him to see "This Is It" yesterday, the Michael Jackson movie, and at first he was sort of into it because he loves the music, but then about a quarter of the way through it he turned to me and whispered, "I don't like this movie because it's about someone who's dead."
"Do you want to go take a walk?" I asked him, but he shook his head no and burrowed in close to me, and I thought he was -- I don't know what, just hanging in there. We had some popcorn. I kept my eye on him. I was prepared to go, but also half thinking of all the candy-coated kids' movies I've gone to for his sake and thinking maybe it wouldn't kill him to suck it up and sit through some totally PG thing Jack and I wanted to see. Well, wrong again, Mom, WRONG. Apparently I ruined his life by taking him to that movie and forcing him to contemplate his mortality, and also, just to ratchet it up a few more notches, by telling him there was no Santa Claus*, "MY LIFE WILL NEVER BE FUN AGAIN, MOM, NEVER, WHY DID YOU TELL ME THERE WAS NO SANTA, WHY CAN'T I HAVE A TIME MACHINE AND GO BACK IN TIME BEFORE I EVEN KNEW SANTA EXISTED!"
*a year ago
The moral of this story is twofold. One: If you're going to lie to your kids, keep it going forever. You keep on putting out reindeer food on Xmas Eve, Elfy, until the world is out of oatmeal and glitter; keep slipping money under their pillows until they're in dentures, Mrs. Tooth Fairy McLiarpants. And Two: Don't expect a child who's had nothing more to eat than a Pop Tart, half a salami sandwich, and a fistful of buttered popcorn to act like an exceptionally rational human being at the end of the day. Yeah, oops. What? I thought you gave him lunch.
17 Comments:
I am 31 years old and I still get presents from Santa at my folks house. I don't look for reindeer prints on the roof (We're in Michigan) or put out cookies anymore, but yeah....we've never discussed it.
Hmmmm ... you'd think the whole MJ thing would make him rethink the whole cosmetic surgery idea ...
I'm not to hip on the dealing with the dying thing either. (at 40+)
I just act like they're on a really long trip and lost the plane ticket home ... or - blatantly ignore the obvious.
MUST WE DISCUSS THESE THINGS?
(thankfully, I am not a parent - therefore I am not passing on my psychosis. You're welcome!)
I'm with Jackson. Death is horrifying. I can make my peace with my creepy neck but the end of my days I cannot even contemplate.
oh, god. why is it so hard? death is the worst (the only times i've wished i espoused a specific religion, one with an afterlife, was explaining that shit to my kids). the santa claus thing was bad with my son. four years ago, and he still hasn't forgiven us (famous quote = "when i have kids i won't LIE TO THEM").
I was a painfully clever child, and not prone to believing a lot of things grown-ups told me, but I was somehow not hip to the whole Santa thing -- so apparently, when I was informed of the big hoax (I was maybe 6 or 7) my reaction was an extremely indignant "So I guess this means there's no Easter Bunny, either?!?!"
(However now, as an adult, a tiny hidden part of me once more secretly believes in Santa.)
I'm having my neck replacement surgery next year.
Having seen you up close, you look gorgeous and what makes you shine is the light within, not the knife without.
However, I do like the knife. I had my eyes done and it was the best thing EVER. I look 12, right?
My middle kid was devastated when he found out everyone dies. I mean, he just crumbled, I can still see it clearly today and hear him, in the most pitiful voice I've ever heard, whimper, "But I don't want to die," before bursting into tears. As agnostics, we, of course, had nothing better to offer him then the ol', "Well, SOME people believe there's a heaven, and OTHER people believe there isn't, and WE are too flaky to choose a side, but hey, our bodies feed the worms, who aerate the grass, which feeds the cows, who give us milk. Oh the circle...the circle of life!!!"
However, Santa Claus is sacred. We cling to the lie until they're old enough to humor us. It worked great with our oldest, who's 16 now. And the two younger kids, 8 and 6, are still buying into it. My parents lied to us kids about Santa, and it was awesome!
Fuck. I'm a total failure as a parent. Awesome! See you all in hell.
Somehow I never believed in Santa...I always knew 'from Santa' was code for 'from Mom and Dad'. Kinda takes the magic out of wondering how the presents were chosen like the fat guy really knew me huh?
i once did a whole post about OMG MY FACE! and then was mortified. but i left it there. and it was true.
I'm commenting here for the very first time every -- hi everyone! Hi Eden! I vividly remember going through a very bad phase of being afraid of death when I was six or seven years old, and specifically I was afraid of my parents dying. I remember one night I came downstairs crying after lying in the dark for a long time thinking about it, and my mom told me something that really helped me. She said that she and my dad would die eventually, but not for a long long time, and by the time they were very old, I would have my own family, and I'd have my own children and grandchildren, and she and my dad would no longer be the center of my universe. She made me feel better without lying (and no, I don't consider the omission of "though some people die young while they still have small children" to be a lie, but a smart avoidance of an unnecessary complication for the sake of a scared little kid.) It was age-appropriate, and it worked for me.
OK, got it. Keep lying forever. I can do that, I'm pretty sure.
I am now entering a new stage of non-denial about aging/death. But I'm keeping it to myself.
My daughter notices and is alarmed by every grey hair though. She's keeping a death watch already.
When my girl child was around 5 or 6 I actually came out and PROMISED her, swore up and down, that she would never die. I could tell you about the lengthy, tear-filled, angst-ridden conversation that preceded that declaration, but you can probably imagine it pretty well on your own, I'm thinking.
regarding Santa and the lies of omission...they know. on some level...they know. even though i did have to sit my 6th grade son down and just give it to him straight in the run-up to Christmas that year. i didn't want his middle school peers mocking him. he admitted he suspected...but stayed on the fence, as they all do, i think, worrying that "if you don't believe, you won't receive." that's my take.
fortunately the first two of my three have not been traumatized by no Santa. but...there's still Maggie to contend with...*shudders*
I guess I must be Buddhist or Hindu or something because I've never felt that anything in this consciousness made any sense. Never bought that Santa thing much either. I mean, they told me at 4 years old that there was a God who was good and caring. Then at 5 when I asked what was outside our planet, and outside our stars, and past all that, I found out NO ONE KNEW, NOT EVEN THE ADULTS, and then I was terrified. Since then I've calmed down a lot and everything I love I say goodbye to, just as I love it. I'm all good for that. It's illness and pain and suffering I am afraid of, for anyone. But DEATH, no. I'll have either burned out with a bang, or be somewhere new and different.
But I am not everyone, and I had no idea WHAT to say to a child who has fears. Thank you JulieG's Mom, that sounds absolutely brilliant.
What started his fear of death? Grandparents dying?
My kids are 20 and 18 and we have never had a Santa conversation. Cookies are still left out...carrots, too. Haven't you seen The Santa Clause???
But I am with your kid, I don't watch anything that has currently dead people in them, except for Everybody Loves Raymond.
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