My boys love astronomy. I couldn't care less.
This leaves me with a guilty question: What do you do when your children's interests don't match your own? Do you do your utmost to cultivate genuine enthusiasm and expertise? Do you fake it? Or do you keep the faith with your own passions, figuring you're teaching a lesson about assertion of selfhood and independence?
Yes. Duh. No shit, Sherlock. This isn't tough stuff. You chose to bring an autonomous, sentient, emotional being in the world. You didn't have to do this. No one forced you. No child-ghost floated around in the ethosphere, screaming, "Pick me! Pick me!" You created the blob of flesh that now has consciousness.
The child is part of you, but the child is not you. Your job is to subliminate your will to the child's. If your child wants to be a homosexual artist in San Francisco - or an astrophysicist at FermiLab - then that's what the child gets to do. Oh, but that's not what you want? Sigh. Only a narcissist would consider that a justification.
Notice how her children's needs about about her. Her feelings. Her response to the situation. To her, the child is just a prop - and extension of her identity. That she "couldn't care less" applies to much more than astronomy.
Oh, and if self-abnegation sucks, don't have children. I do not have children precisely because I am self-obsessed and self-involved. I appreciate having the freedom to define reality on my own terms.
I do not claim that my level of self-involvement is emotionally healthy, or The Way to Life One's Life. I am self-aware enough, however, to not bring a child into the world. Because having a children means surrendering my freedom, and the subjugation of my will.
Oh, but children are love. Great. If you really think that, I am in awe. You have achieved a superior level of emotional development. Congratulations. I also do not worry about your children. If you continue living like I do after having had children (which is what Ms. Bazelon seems to be doing), then you are the worst person in the world.
