On having children.

 

This is a book I read a few years ago. I have zero, and I mean zero, memory of the book so I'm going to break one of my informal rules and read it again. I was reminded of the book (it's short stories, not a novel, which partially explains why it didn't imprint on my brain) when I read an interview with actress Frances McDormand who starred in the HBO miniseries based on the book. In the interview she said this:

About children: "... the minute you smell them there’s a pheromonal reaction between the parent and their child. My son smelled like a cinnamon bun, and that smell entered into my biological being, and it became an imperative that I keep him alive at all costs, so then there’s this monster—this tiger, or lion—that comes forward in you to protect them. And it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t matter if they become men or women. The whole point of a teenager driving you insane is because they’re supposed to wear you down so you can fuckin’ die sooner and get out of the way, because it’s their place.

This passage speaks to me. My children didn't wear me down during their teen years and they're not wearing me down in their early adulthood. But my gut tells me that Frances is right.

And the 2-night, 4-hour miniseries that aired Sunday and Monday nights was wonderful. She's a great actress.