(Posted originally on February 3rd, 2007)
It’s now 9 pm in the evening, and I don’t have anything ready for tomorrow’s celebration of the first anniversary in the life of Mostly About Food. I had a ton of things planned, but half of them didn’t work out and the rest of it just hasn’t been done. Instead of drawing a birthday comic today, I wrote a rant, which I even myself can’t quite understand, what it really is about. I’ll probably manage to put up some half-assed semi-comic up tomorrow. It really bothers me that my head is literally bulging with ideas, but my inspiration to draw anything is close to zero.
My complaining about my laziness and lack of drive must be pretty tiring to read. It seems to be the main theme of every other article on this page. I extend my sincerest apologies for my lack of spine and for constantly writing about it. It just helps dealing with the problem.
But that is not to say that I would be on a bad mood. Quite the contrary, I am a very happy man. The first time, I wrote about our son, Axel, I may have seemed less than thrilled about him: he used to scream all the time and we didn’t get any sleep. Things have changed a lot since then. Well, to be honest, he still wakes up quite often at night, which means very little sleep to his mother. But as for the rest of it, he is simply adorable. I want to eat him - by the way, isn’t it strange, how at times, when you get really excited about your child, you think about eating him? Not like spit-roasted, but... you know what I mean, don’t you? There must be some psychological explanation to that reaction, for pretty much everyone I know says so to their (grand)children: mommy will eat you!
I’ve always liked children, but I have to say that my own little boy is so beautiful that it hurts. It sometimes feels very odd to look at something so precious – like I would turn into Gollum... Sure, relationships between grown-ups can be very deep and meaningful, but never before has someone elses well-being been such a crucial part of my own existence. As often as I am glad for his smiles and the funny noises, he makes, I feel this crushing weight on my shoulders, caused by the constant worry: “I just wish everything goes well, I just hope nothing bad happens.” I know that all this worrying is mostly unnecessary: Axel is a healthy boy, he has two loving parents and he lives in one of the wealthiest and safest corners of the world. But he’s just so small. At the moment he is just realizing that he has hands, which he can use to grab stuff. Thinking about that doesn’t make me very convinced that he will ever be able to manage on his own. And those thoughts make me understand my parents a bit better. Now I can sort of understand, how my mom sees me and my older siblings.
Naturally, all of this is self-evident to any parent and uninteresting to anyone who doesn’t have a child. I just find it a bit interesting – crossing the border from the point where a parent proclaiming the same old “I’d do anything for my kid” would bore me to tears, to where I am today, having all these feelings that weren't there before. I just wish everything goes well, I just hope nothing bad happens.
Here’s a picture of Axel, from his christening some six weeks ago.