For the last 10+ years, my friends and family have been spitting out babies with such regularity that I could time my watch to the process, that is, if I wore a watch (What is time, anyway? Also, what time is it?).
I think my biological clock is pulling a Benjamin Button. When I was (way) younger, I would have bet your life that I'd have two kids by the time I hit 30. Ha! The older I get, the more fearful of childbirth I become (had a recent dream about my fear of childbirth, in fact), and the less enthusiastic about bringing life into this world, although I'm still willing-ish, not to mention I have a suspicion it will happen in this lifetime, whether I am 37 or 47 or in my 50s (see Salma Hayek or Halle Berry or Brigitte Nielson), although eek to the last age option.
I was at OT the other day, and there was this woman I found quite irritating. I feel kind of bad saying this because she has to mean well in her throwing out a lot of encouraging "whoop!"s, but once you've heard one whoop, you've heard enough, in my humble opinion. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, lessening the potency of my irritation. But then this thought came into my head: She was born to someone. She was once a bouncing baby, probably cute. And now she's an annoying 40-something at the gym who probably has no idea that she's annoying. I don't want to give birth to someone who will become an annoying adult. That scares me. I mean, I could, in all possibility, birth a child who matures into an annoying person, either because of me or in spite of my attempts to form their personality into something pleasant and aware. So many things could go wrong. It could grow up to be a mass murderer or just a regular murderer or a version of Clayton Bigsby.
I guess it's starting to make more sense, then, that I'm often chosen to be in bridal parties yet have never been bestowed the honor of being someone's baby's godmother. I bring the party, but not the parenting.
Free time is best spent sitting on the couch (or anywhere else) staring off into space. Or partying, although that seems to be dwindling. (Alcohol has been losing its luster with increasing momentum, and that makes me sad. I'm also kinda indifferent to it, but that could be my laziness.) I guess this mindset isn't conducive to bearing full responsibility for a child whose parents died and have asked me to care for it until I or it dies.
I mean, would I rather be a temporary maid or a potentially full-time mother?
I hear less and less that I'd be a great mother. People used to say it to me surprisingly often. Some had kids, some didn't. I'm not sure what they used to take into consideration. Obviously all the good parts. I'm also not sure why I'm hearing it less. Probably the bad parts.
Welp, nothing ventured, nothing gained! If that applies.