From my grandmother (ahem):
So, when are you going to settle down with a nice man and make me a great-grandmother ?
Well, grandma, have you forgotten all of your other great-grandchildren? Aren’t they legion by now? You even have great-great-grandchildren. The family line has been taken care of, so there’s no need for me to give birth.
Be that as it may, I thought about skipping this question, since my grandmother doesn’t even know how to use a computer and is therefore not posting comments on my blog, but I thought I’d write about it anyway. I could be all jokey about it and tell you that I might be more inclined to settle down with a nice man and squeeze out a baby when I finally stop dating people who are so completely wrong for me (the stories I could tell) but oh, who cares? The past is over, thank goodness. Water under the proverbial bridge. Bygones. Et cetera.
If I’m going to be honest, the issue of my laughably bad dating history aside (seriously! the stories!), I’ve never been very good at settling. But then, thinking back, with whom would I have settled? Thinking over past options, the list is a string of No.
So it’s out there in the future for me or it isn’t, and I’m not concerned about it either way. I enjoy men (except for when I don’t) but I also enjoy my single life. I guess that if I ever end up in something really great, I hope I have the presence of mind not to fuck it up. Isn’t that the most we can ever hope for? Perhaps?
I know you didn’t exactly ask, because it’s possible to settle down without getting married, but if you really were my grandmother, then the marriage issue wouldn’t even be a question — it’s saying “I do” or nothing. I’m not opposed to marriage, per se, but it gives me pause, too. And I really can’t imagine ever having a wedding, because for one thing, weddings make people insane, and for another thing, I’ve experienced enough of other people’s weddings by now to know that while they were often very lovely and/or totally great parties, I just don’t wanna. So there’s that.
As for kids, goodness gracious. I love kids. I really really do. I’ve worked with kids and babysat kids and entertained the kids of friends and family. I know that having kids isn’t usually very glamorous, and I’m not even anybody’s parent, but I’ve been peed on and drooled on and barfed on and bled on and you name it. But I still love kids. Despite all the things about them that are decidedly not delightful, they really are rather delightful. I’m not sure about having any of my own, because I have always enjoyed giving them back to their parents. I also really like sleeping and I hear you don’t get to do much of that when you have young children. So I don’t know. I’m not entirely sold on the idea of having my own children, but I think I’d be a really great aunt. Plus there’s the fact that I told my mother that she’d better love my dog Sweet Pea (but then, how could she not love Sweet Pea? Sweet Pea is insanely lovable) because the dog may be the closest she ever gets to having a grandchild.
Plus she is ADORABLE:
I guess I’ll say this, and it can sum up my feelings on both issues pretty well — right now I have no idea, but as ever, I am open to letting life surprise the hell out of me.