“Are you a mommy?” asked one of my little students today. The hope of my potential motherhood glittered in her big, smiling eyes, as she stared at me, awaiting a response.
“Um.. Nope. No, I am not. Why?”
“Oh, if you were a mom I would ask you what did you get for Mother’s Day.” the little girl replied, “Because I gave my mommy a cute clay figure.”
I quite wanted to say that writing the thesis is almost like giving labor, but maybe it was better not to scary the hell out of a kid, even if the comparison is highly tempting.
Actually, that’s pretty funny a coincidence, since just this morning I was talking with one of my group mates about how generation Z kids are kinda annoying, and that it is gonna be a terribly horribly weebly-woobly hard task to raise our generation’s offspring. Don’t mind me wrong, I deal with quite a bunch of kids born after late 2000s, so I do not think they are that much lost or spoiled. Well, they are , but which kids are not?
Anyway, we got to the conclusion that we have no idea about children anyway and that they will have to probably listen to European Treaty bedtime readings of my group mate and I am gonna spoil my own kids probably anyway*, because that’s the way I am. But, honestly, it’s nearly impossible to predict the children at this point or how would any of us, me and my group mate, behave around them. Parenthood just sounds too exotic.
I have no idea, maybe I would make a good mom? I think I could have children someday. Well, as probably most 20-somethings I still believe there will be time for that after I achieve at least some things that I want to do. But I do not know any moms similar to me. From what I know about my own mom’s adolescence, I am rather the opposite of a fun, brainy astronomy student she used to be in her 20s. And my own mom is not even little similar to grandma.
It brings me to the point in which I get aware that I also do not know any good teacher that wouldn’t be this conservative in their life choices. Damn, okay, there is my mom, but that’s a whooole different story. Anyway, all in all, I [somehow] make hell of a great teacher. Which brings me to the conclusion, that maybe it does not matter much of what I chose to live like, but more of what mom I could make by working hard, plus a whole mountain of patience.
Things are hardly that simple, I know. After all, as I said, no one can predict the children, so how can one foresee how is it to be a mom by your own? Even I cannot, and I am a writer! [panics slightly] Well, I guess, all I can do now is to complain and wonder. Thanks Thor for being 20-sth once in a lifetime.
*now I need to leave this blog before the first one is born so they never know.