Thursday, September 13, 2018

My Momma Inspired Me Not to Procreate




The mother/daughter relationship is not one that I envy. I had a mother who, by all accounts, was a good mom.

I didn't get along with her for the first 17 years of my life but she was a good mom. 

We were just two very different people and we didn't understand each other. Nothing unique about this story. 

My mother and father wanted a family. They created both of their babies on purpose.

Their first baby was me. And I was adorable.


But the personality and character traits that I inherited and would develop-were most likely not what they had in mind when they said they wanted children.

Words to describe my parent’s chosen lifestyle

Humble.

Plain.

Quiet.

Devout.

I am none of those things. Not by nature. I have the ability when the occasion calls for such manners. 

I am curious and boisterous and sparkly and agnostic. 

And I battled my parents for what I believed in. 

Of course, the standard adult response is 

“Oh just you wait, one day you will be a parent and everything you did to your parents, your kids will do to you.”

Clearly, that threat doesn’t work because we still act up and most of society still wants to have children. 

Or at least, unprotected sex.

For all the cute baby photos I see, I know there will be a lot fewer posts by those parents during the teen phase. 

That is when I want people to post on social media. When their children are acting out. 

That is far more entertaining. 

While I was battling my mother for 17 years, I was also watching as though I were outside my body. 

My mother actually wanted to be a mom. She drove us to music lessons and swimming lessons and countless other activities. She cooked our meals and worked on school projects. She taught me how to bake.

But I couldn’t wait to grow up and do what it was that I came to do in this life. 

I didn’t want to grow up and be a mom. 

I don’t know if my mother had any other aspirations. It’s quite possible that her purpose was to birth and raise two kids.

She died one week after my brother turned 19.



 Nearly 14 years have passed and I am living my life and watching a lot of my peers raise families. They are in the throes of parenthood-the good, the bad and the expensive. 

I am at an age of perspective-I am not young enough to feign ignorance and I’m not old enough to regret.

I’ve spent 35 years getting to know myself and so I am pretty confident in the choices I make. 

I recognize the value of being a friend to children. An ally to future adults. 

I choose not to take on the daily responsibility of raising children. I do not want to give up my freedom for fear of dying alone or having no one to look after me when I am old. 

That is not a burden I’d want my parents to put on me. I’m not the caregiver type anyway.

I am the fun aunt type. 

My nephews and their friends will come to visit their eccentric 90-year-old aunt in her mountain chalet.

The only thing I can remember my mother saying to me about having babies was that my boobs would get really big during pregnancy. 

And if you know me, that’s an area I don’t need any help in.

Ha!


Sincerely 

LeNora Faye
Bitchy Bookkeeper 
Almost an Author 
Former Fantastic Violinist 































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