In the ripe old age of my…ahem mid 30’s, I got married. It was wonderful to finally commit to someone after years of investigating the market as I call it.
However, shortly after tying the knot and getting back to the grindstone, the most common question amongst friends, family and well, everyone else I know was “so, when are you going to start having children?”
Now first things first, I’m not against having children in the slightest and I admire, respect and adore my gorgeous friends with their gorgeous little and big ones. But when did we crawl back to the 1950’s where we had to get married to have children AND we had to have children once we got married? How far we have come, and yet how far away we truly are.
I could go on and on about that subject, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about so I digress.
I started thinking about why I haven’t got the bug, the maternal drive, the want to procreate, have beautiful children and watch them grow (right now anyways). And it hit me. I have a child. It’s 11yrs old. It screams, keeps me up at night, takes the money from my wallet, smiles at me when it wants something and makes me compromise my livelihood on a daily basis. It’s called “My Business”.