I have to apologise. For some reason, my previous post came off more maudlin that I had intended. See, I wasn't complaining about being single, I'm actually happier than I've ever been - being single! I was merely thinking aloud with that self-analysis-behaviour-modification thing I do. I ardently believe in Divine Will so I don't fret about anything I don't have - with the knowledge that things will come as they're meant to, at the right time.
And timing is everything.
It's a funny thing. Life. I can remember a time when (barely a year ago) my ovaries were pining ferociously for offspring. Six kids if anyone recalls. That was always the plan. But now? I'm not so sure.
I don't know exactly what changed my mind. All I know is that one minute I was helping my cousin move from Mayfair (central Johannesburg) to Florida Hills (west of Johannesburg) with her 18 month old toddler... and then the next minute, said ovaries were like "ok thanks, we've had enough".
What really drove the point home was spending the weekend at her new place (coz her hubby had to go to Manchester/UK on business). Now I'm no amateur. I always knew that having kids was not easy and I was really not naive or idealistic about this. And I've taken care of my fair share of babies from babysitting for a day to a couple of weeks! But nothing, NOTHING, could have prepared me for a weekend with a hyper-active, super-sensitive, intelligent and rebellious 18 month-old.
Firstly, this kid can talk... like entire sentences... at only 18 months. That's one year and 6 months for those who need to count. Yeah I know, I asked my cousin what she was feeding him too. The fact that he's so intelligent doesn't help. Intelligence + rebellious is NOT a good combination. See, with any other kid, you can just sprout any shit and they'll believe you. Not this kid. He puts on his "who-the-f@#$-do-you-think-you're-lying-to" face and does what he wants to anyway.
Sunday morning rolled around and he woke up next to me and his mother on the bed. He rolled over, smiled lazily and said "Hi Azra". Then he told his mother he needs to be changed - not in so many words - the kid may be intelligent but he isn't Jesus ok. It didn't take him long to get his bearings and head for destruction. The kitchen was first and when he was done unpacking every cupboard he could open, he headed for the lounge and the DVD stack.
The entire weekend was EXHAUSTING! And I wasn't even the one doing most of the yelling and reprimanding. At one point he fell asleep, woke up in my arms and proceeded to scream his head off for about an hour, crying because how dare I carry him while he's asleep and how dare his mother let anyone near him. He only stopped when she took out a belt and told him that if he didn't quit crying blue murder, she was going to give him something to cry about.
And I think that was it. I've never been the same since. It's not that I can't see the pay-off here. I can see and appreciate the bond they have... and I can see the joy he brings to her life. But I have three cousins with four babies between them and honestly, I feel more exhausted just thinking about them then they do about rearing their children. I think that I'm definitely not ready for one of those (never-mind six). Crazy kids = Best. Contraception. Ever!
I'm not saying that I don't ever want to have kids... who knows what the future holds ;)