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Oh good lord, I'm going to be a parent any day. Eight days from my due date. As someone who had a fairly fucked childhood, a less-fucked but still uncomfortable adolescence, and an I-don't-know-what first half of my third decade, this is kind of terrifying. At the same time, I feel oddly competent. I'm intelligent. I have no use for society's remnant traditions, but also understand moderation is key in most situations. Hell, I figure I'm ahead of the game already, because I know I won't whack my kid around, or treat them as a completely ignorant being incapable of making decisions for themselves Even if I feel that in whatever particular situation, that's exactly how he's behaving. I know myself. That's one of the few accomplishments I've eeked out over the past quarter-century. So I'll know my kid in ways he can't understand until he's an adult. That is not to say I'll know everything about him and how he thinks. But I'll recognize the signs. I'm sure I'll see the "Okay, Parental, if that's how you want to play it, then I'm going to the library" gleam in his eyes. I rather doubt he's going to be any less of his own person than I was. I did what I want, still do. Uselessly railing against that, trying to change a core comportment of who I am didn't help me or anyone involved. I don't think I'll be a bad parent. I don't think his father will be, either, even if we split. So why am I so fucking nervous?