The Maternal Instinct...

...is something I'll probably never have. I assumed it a long time ago, but my assumption was confirmed ten-fold yesterday during a couple of interviews I sat through with an office colleague. We accompanied this research agency on visits to a few ladies in the locale, to interview them on their lives and their children, for a project we're working on at the moment. We asked the women about how they feel about motherhood, and their fondest memories about their kids, who were seated next to them.

Maaan.... it was all so alien to me. Their faces went all gaga-gooey, and their eyes would tear up while huge smiles splashed across their faces when they described what a sheer blessing it was to be a mom. All the while, the demonic imps next to them screamed, wriggled and ran around uncontrollably like wound-up toys. What amazed me more was the look of 'awww sweeeet' on my colleague's and the researchers' faces everytime the little tykes pulled their hair or disrupted the interview process. All I wanted to do to those kids was strap them to their seat and plaster their mouths. The more I sat through those interveiws , the more I was yearning to speedily escape, because the moms kept carrying the kids to me and saying "see the nice auntie...go play with the nice auntie." This auntie was NOT feeling nice, I can tell you that much. All she wanted to do was scream and bolt, but instead, she had to grit her teeth and smile benignly for the sake of a succesful research.


So yeah... I came to the conclusion that maybe mothering just ain't for me. I can't fathom how the majority of the female race does it... go all gushy over mini-humans like that. I don't have the patience, or the in-built nurturing instinct that I am 'supposed' to have, to give up my freedom and sacrifice my sanity in the name of motherhood. The only living beings that DON'T evoke my sympathy and undying affection are humans, whatever size they come packaged in. Other peoples' kids are fine... cute and cuddly to look and coo at... because you know that at the end of the day, someone else has to deal with the whining and pooing. But to have to do that myself... hell, I'M still whining and pooing. There's no way in hell I'm gonna be mature enough to take care of another little me. I'd lose the one sane nerve I have left. Gimme dogs and cats, or even slugs to look after and I'll do it with joy. A fur-less, noisy baby who will in a few years talk too much...NO.

In general society, this makes me a heathen of sorts, but I don't really care. Society can go stuff itself... it'll be some time before I want to play Mummy.