Friday, August 18, 2006

Whatever The Case May Be

The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. --Henry Ward Beecher

Henry Beecher was an idiot.

Why do I say this? Because only a spineless Mama's boy could possibly think that love has anything to do with parenting. Never mind the court battles, the support payments, and pay no attention to the phone drama. Because any man who has ever fathered a child knows, his most defining moment as a dad is not standing at any altar, reciting vows like a parrot to the preacher. The most important thing a father can do for his children, is to make their mothers happy. Often!

Every story of parental pride, starts with the same thing- SEX. That's right, The Deed. Making the thing with two backs! All of us. The human race is not one we're going to win, but I must admit we wouldn't have made it nearly this far, if not for the ladies and their fertile crescents. Regardless of our nationality, ethnicity, or age of consent, conception is reality. All you have to do to join the club of Inadvertent Parent is push when you should pull. Now every mother out there will tell you about the wonder of having a life grow within them and how the long months waiting and agonizing hours of labor are a small price for the gift of motherhood. But I fail to see the romance and magic after all, we all start at approximately the same starting point. Yeah, that point right there. From there, Luck, Darwin, and God decide if you're going to get your roots in the dirt before the Great Flood washes you into the linens. Your mother has surprisingly little say at this point, and while your zygote ass is probably happy to find footing, Mommy Dearest is likely sitting on a toilet crying with a blue Preggo Stick in her hand. But your journey is far from over. There is no special Hallmark Holiday for those doting mothers who suppress their maternal instincts, and elect to postpone your descent from Heaven above. Weather it be birth control pill, morning after pill, "Wholly shit, did I really do it with that guy?" pill, (sorry, there is no such pill, but now that I think about it, there oughta be!) or other methods of stopping the natural flow of things, we all should be congradulated for actually making it this far. Not that I don't understand these "almost-mothers". I can scarcely imagine the myriad of horrors that must plague an expectant mother over the course of gestation. Especially if that expectant mother was shit hammered for the first two months of the pregnancy, and all her efforts to be a "good mommy" backfire and she gives birth to something a little left of the norm. This is where it gets cloudy, you see, I'm not against abortion. However, in some cases, I'm not for it either. Too many times have I heard of the situation that, well we'll call her "Little Miss Eggs-A-Lot" happens to get one fertilized by "Mister hey tough break but I can't be a father now". The outcome of some of these are a nice trip to the Women's Center for a quick fix. Being used as a way of birth control isn't what I support. If the mother is raped or it's a case of incest, I'm fine with it. If the pregnancy could threaten the life of the mother, I'm also good with that. If there is a chance the baby is going to be born with radical birth defect and does not stand a chance of a "normal" life, who's to say who is right or wrong, even in that situation.

Ok, it's the bottom of the ninth, two outs, you're at bat, no balls, two strikes. Your team is behind by two runs. You need to get on base to give the best hitter on your team, who bats right after you, a chance to tie this baby up. The pitcher winds and fires. That pitch looks like it's drifting a little high and tight. It looks like it's coming right at you. There's still plenty of time to get out of the way but even if you give it a half hearted attempt to move out of the way, (which the rules of baseball say you have to do) you probably will get hit anyway. Resulting in a free trip to first base. Folks, that's called leaning into the pitch. Taking one for the team. That team being the team of Humankind in my scenario. In nature it's called "thinning the heard". In a system of elitism it's called "selective breeding". I don't see anything wrong with that either, as long as you don't go all Hitler with it. Every mother wants her child to be "special" but not in that special sense. But maybe ordinary isn't such a bad way to be? Certainly, a nice "normal" child isn't going to sell the television for crack. But more and more babies are falling from the Womb Tree everyday, thus increasing the odds that one Gift from God might start spewing nonsense on a random blog website, while the next "miracle of birth" makes women want to run off to the animal shelter and get spayed. There are worse fates to suffer, I suppose. Most babies born with freakish defects die early in the game, but there are those anomalies who somehow survive and flourish. Two words: Michael Bolton. So thanks to all those mothers out there, including my own, who spent sleepless nights worrying and answering the phone at those odd hours. Your hopes of a happy life as a Mom were not in vain, though somewhat unrealistic. But then again, as a female, your likely unbalanced and your entire life is a lie anyway. So next time you got your legs in the air and are considering how wonderful being a mamma would be, do me, do our world, and your fetus a favor.

Recycle!

And keep the Earth green.

4 comments:

Cerpts said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Cerpts said...

My goodness!

Well, it's a sad, disheartening and, I think, reprehensible thing that occurs in all too many marriages (and this particular blog reminds me of it). And that is this scenario:

During the wedding ceremony, the woman and the man both vow to love, honor and cherish each other. Platitudes of overwhelming love for the other person are spoken. "I have finally found my life partner; that person who is my dream come true." Until, of course, a baby is born. Then, according to quite a few men I've talked to, the fella is shunted aside to become almost an afterthought as the child becomes the sole focus of the woman's life. The "perfect love" has served it's purpose and can recede into the outskirts of the marriage; the goal of getting a baby has been accomplished, thank you very much.

Now, this doesn't happen in all marriages but it does seem to be disturbingly frequent. A woman's child is quite rightly an extremely important part of her life and the responsibility of taking on parenthood, which is too often not thought through or accepted completely (Hi, Fink's Mom! Hi, Donger's Dad! Hi, Ern's Father! Hi my own Daddy Dear!) should be a major focus of a parent's life. However, this person who was supposedly the love of your life should not be forgotten, dismissed or pushed aside into the marital periphery. Unless, of course, that "great love" was a lie in order to procure for herself a "sperm gun" to accomplish her REAL goal: "Mommyhood". If this IS the case, then, as I've always said, the words to the marriage ceremony should be changed from "holy matrimony" to "elbow macaroni" because they have become hollow and bent!

As every parent usually explains when they have several children: "Mommy has enough love to go around for ALL of you". That should also include the husband. Don't put on the blinders, ladies, to the exclusion of all but your babies. There's another person there who has devoted his life to you and the children and he doesn't deserve to be forgotten.

As for the hubbies that do not accept THEIR responsibilities as the father OR the husband? Dump 'em, ladies; they're useless dicks.

Cheeks DaBelly said...

Well, all I can say is wow!

Cerpts said...

Now, how 'bout that puddin'?