MiniMeMiniMeMiniMe

I don't understand the desire to procreate. Well, put it that way and I tell a lie. I perfectly understand the desire to procreate. *purrrr*

I suppose what I don't understand is the urging need to propagate. The last thing I want is a mini-Me running around. How terrifying.

I remember when my cousin first got married. I had asked her about her plans, in general, and she had, without the slightest hesitation, answered they wanted to start a family immediately. I was startled, but I thought, oh, heh heh. Iiiiii get it. *nudge nudge*wink wink* But she was serious, and she had a bun in the oven before the honeymoon was over! (To be fair, it was a 3-month honeymoon. Oh, to have ultra-wealthy, doting parents!)

I didn't understand it. Didn't she want to experience what it was living as husband and wife for a bit of quiet bliss before never ever ever having that kind of peace again for the rest of their lives??

And a child is no small responsibility, it's an unbreakable commitment for life! Even long after they've grown and having kids of their own, they're still your responsibility! Well, that seems like the modern Asian way, anyway, especially if you're upper middle- and above class.

It's just so ... if there was ever a ball-and-chain commitment, this is definitely it. Marriages nowadays are no longer so inescapable, but the responsibility of caring for your children is not an option. For responsible people, that is. :op It's not that I fear I won't be able to handle that kind of responsibility, I know I very definitely can, but I just don't want it. I most vehemently don't want it.

I know some people badly want children and therefore gladly shoulder the responsibility for the wonderful joys parenthood rewards them with. I find that .. admirable. And I understand that.

What I don't understand is WHY people want children in the first place??!!!

Natural instinct? Or our own ego driving us to have little 'us'-es? I know some of you have kids, or want to have kids, and I'd love to play with them and take them to parks and take them shopping and buy all your kids lots and lots of toys, candy and clothes .. but I don't want one of my own.

No, I am NOT a paedophile!

My sister think it's exceedingly strange, as I am good with kids. I manage them well, I am patient with them, and I can always get kids to do what I want without having to resort to threats of monsters lurking in hidden corners, policemen/guards-will-catch-you or corporal punishment, but I want none of my own.

You know what I love? Teaching kids; small children, up to the age of twelve. On and off between my tertiary schooling, I often found time to teach younger children. Once I even volunteered as a teaching assistant at a school for handicapped children, and honestly speaking, I loved every moment of it.

When I was looking for a job earlier this year, I actually went to several interviews for positions that required working with and teaching young kids, and you know what? I was sorely tempted, but at the time, I thought it best to give engineering as a career a try first. My main motivation for deciding this was that engineering paid more. I'm not wrong. Hardly noble, but I've never professed to possessing higher virtues. I want my money. I figured that after I'm financially secure I can do whatever the hell I want, be it teaching young kids, or veterinary science. You know how people say never work with children or animals? I wouldn't even mind doing both at the same time! Eh heh.

Now, I still think about those teaching jobs I gave up, wondering if I might be happier there than I am here, wondering if the higher pay is really worth giving up the opportunity to do something I know I would enjoy.

Sigh.

I love my brother. He's four. I was 21 when he came along. I've had an active hand in raising him from a wee tadpole, and I love him to bits. And because there is this huge age difference, its almost like having a son of my own. Nakal pun nakal lah, but there is nothing I would not do for the little brat, and he's one of the greatest loves of my life. He's my very own little man.

But still, I don't want a child of my own womb. The thought makes me shudder.

I don't know. I suppose I simply don't want to bring another person into this world, not me personally. I think I'm more the type of person who would open an orphanage or a home, take in stray waifs, raise them and nurture them in a way their own natural parents neglected to provide for them, then send them on their way.

I think I'm more suited to the role of Mentor than Mother. I have no desire what-so-ever to propagate. I think that the only way I would ever have kids of my own would be through adoption, by *oopsie!* accident, or if my husband desired children. I would give my husband children, should he so desire, but if given the choice, I'd rather not. Thank God He sent me the one He did, which only makes me feel better about the posibilities of this relationship.

I suppose the same maternal instinct in most women manifests itself in its exactly reverse polarity in me. Who knows? I might feel this way now, and have a change of heart later, in which case I'll just have to eat my post.

But until then, will you let me spoil your children instead? ;o)


~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Feeling: