Life is Fair
My Siberian friend once said to me that the reason we need to have children is to make life fair. We torment our parents, grow-up and then in turn, turn out our own personal set of tormentors. Then the children have children who torment them and we get to watch. It’s all good. Life is fair.
I have loved nothing more than having children. I made a big mistake years ago in not starting sooner so I could have had at least six children. Of course, it might have happened; if I could have a husband who’d lived could have at least managed to live out a decade being married to me. C’est la vie.
My children have been the source of my greatest joys but indubitably there is a full set of matching luggage which comes from having children. While my children have given me my greatest joy they have also been the well-springs of my greatest fears, largest worries and most desperate waking nightmares, and from where I sit and can observe; I have had it rather easy compared to some. This doesn’t mean my children are angels even if they are perfect. They still stay out break curfew, argue, talk back, break my rules and most prized possessions, torment their teachers and give me a fast race every day of my life. Most days, I feel like the Law Society of Upper Canada is meeting permanently at my kitchen table. I get no days off – not even for the Sabbath.
For all of that, I wouldn’t trade one single moment of the last 19 years for my childless days. I had a good life while I was single. I traveled, danced and music has filled my days. There was no angst worrying where the next date would come from and pining away home alone on any given night – unless I felt the need to pine. All I had to do was go out my door and I was bound to meet some man who was eager to pick up the social slack. Of course, I had friends, and my greatest trouble was finding the time to be ALONE to do the things I wanted to do…odd how that has yet to change.
I have friends’, who have never had children, when and if, they start to fret that they are missing something, they come to visit and take a seat in the back benches of my kitchen table. A couple hours and a few stiff drinks later the angst and urge usually passes. If we lucky, we live lives which give us choices, and if we are sensible, we are always grateful for what we have.
