Biological Clock

When I was little, I dreamed of having babies. Dolls were wonderful children – they never cried, talked back, threw up on you, absolutely perfect. But then one day I learned what happened when you had babies. First you had to get real close to a boy (which when your eleven is gross) and then you had to carry it inside you for, like forever. (Nine months to an eleven year old is like 20 years to an adult) And then it ripped its way out, which, like, had to be painful! And if you haven’t noticed I find myself flashing back into ‘valley girl speak’ for no apparent reason. It was then that I decided I was never having babies…ever! And I made sure everyone knew it.

Around the age of thirteen I began to baby-sit. Mostly it was awful, and sometimes it was fun. But on rare occasions I could almost imagine being a mom, and it didn’t seem so bad. Around 15 or 16 I think I decided that maximum efficiency would be best. Twins – as if you can control what you get! You go through the exposure once and get twice the product. Now that I’m in my thirties and have successfully hit the snooze button on that horrible biological clock for shall we say the fifth time, I am convinced I want to experience childbirth, but don’t want to raise anything. I mean when I’ll be turning 50 they’ll be 18! Which brings me back to my original point – expectations being what they are, It’s more fun to dream than to actually do anything about it.