Monday, April 13, 2015

Confession of a sucker

I don't get it. I really don't. I mean, how can people say that parenthood is a job?! If it were a job, there would be a college degree in it, proper on-the-job training with expert coaches, continuous education, and if you live in California - where you have to be licensed to simply move your arms - there would be a licensing board of experts who would test to see if you are ready and able to perform this job before they let you out on the market. There would be a salary and benefits provided by your employer - namely, your children - and there would be a price range for the services provided. You want me to take you to the park? That would be, say, $10 an hour. You want me to change your stinky, blowout soft stool diaper which contents leaked into your shirt? I'm sorry, miss, but that will cost you considerably more. And you want me to bail your ass from the principal's office after doing something probably normal for your age, but still so stupid that I wonder who are the parents that raised you? Well, pal, we better sit at the table and discuss my promotion. And, no, making me a grandma while you're still at school is NOT a step up in this career.
I mean, this "company" would never survive in a capitalist world. Ok, yes, it would in a communist one... And you think you'll ever be appropriately compensated for your hard work and invested time and skills? You think your daugther chose that particular career or your son married that sweet, loving girl from a good family as a way of expressing their deepest gratitude for all your sincere effort? Think again, buddy - they did it so their own lives would be good. Heck, they'll even make their own children to make sure you never really retire! Seriously, my dear fellow parents, parenting is a self-imposed slavery albeit necessary to ensure the continuation of the species. My only comfort, when I feel particularly miffed by my kids, comes from knowing that, when the time comes, they too will willingly join the ranks. And then I release the evil laughter from the depths of my chest.

And from the fact that there is nothing that makes me stop in my tracks, instantaneously drop what ever I am feeling, thinking, doing or saying at that moment -  no greater joy and inspiration from the ones I feel when they say "Mommy, I love you".