Still hear baby, baby all night long

The thing about blog posts is that they have to be coherent. There should be a theme, and witty comments about said theme, and a clever closing. I have trouble with this, probably because my head is always full of thoughts that have no coherence, and they certainly don't build to any kind of denouement. Actually, I think they're probably only of interest to me.

But here's some incoherent rambling on children. I feel like I've been thinking and talking about them a lot lately. Tonight at the mall there was a woman in the dressing room next to me, with her son, James. He was having a meltdown, screaming and crying, and sounded like he needed to be taken home to bed. What poor woman has to shop alone with her two-year-old at 8:00 at night? A desperate one, I guess. She was very patient and asked him nicely if he remembered "when we talked about cooperation?"

I don't think he really remembered. Or life was just SO bad at that moment, trapped with his mom in a H&M dressing room, that he couldn't possibly cooperate.

I was talking to someone the other day who was worried about being pregnant when she definitely did not want to be. If she had been, it wouldn't have been life ruining, but it wouldn't have been good, either, and it certainly would've changed a lot of things. I told her I need a baby to limit my options. Joking, of course. But at eighteen a baby would've limited my options disastrously. Now, heck, it'd give me a life plan. Of sorts.

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I'm bought a Patsy Cline CD last night. Talk about melodramatic weepiness. Even the happier songs (of which there is maybe one) have an air of desperation. My favorite is Why Can't He be You. So sad, so pathetic, and so true. I love it.