After they made me, they broke the mold

I spent Thursday evening after class having a few drinks with The Debutante and Dr. M. The main focus of our discussion was gossip about our classmates. Some of it was delicious.

At one point, the topic turned to a meeting I had two weeks ago with the professor from our Thursday night class -- a teacher who has frustrated precisely 94.2 percent of the class (basically, every student but The Deb) because of her dated materials, her scattered teaching method and her capricious grading.

This teacher requested the opportunity to meet with each student, so I reluctantly went to see her for an hour. We talked about my work history and about the difference between a PhD and a PsyD for the better part of the hour, when the prof suddenly asked me if I had any comments about the class.

Did I ever. I won't bother repeating it here because anyone who cares exactly what I said to the teacher has already heard it. Let's just say I shot from the hip -- direct but still tasteful. I actually do have that skill sometimes. *SOMETIMES!*

As I repeated a few of the things I said in the meeting, Dr. M's jaw dropped, while The Deb's eyes grew wide. Dr. M congratulated me for saying things she would only dream about saying but never dare to utter. Apparently, I've still got ovaries.

But ovaries are more than just a *symbol* of a woman's power, they are the mothership itself. And the conversation suddenly turned toward that when The Deb inquired, out of left field, whether Dr. M and her eBoy were going to become parents anytime soon.

Dr. M has an interesting story to tell about why she's not pregnant at this point. But I'll let her tell that story if she wants to share.

At one point, I commented that I "regret" that I never had children. The Deb and Dr. M made a point of noting that it's not too late. But, emotion-centered as I may seem at times, I'm also highly pragmatic. Yes, it's possible. But my "regret" is really a reflection of my understanding that it's not going to happen.

There's a "thing" to all of this, of course. And The Thing is this:

Every time I hear myself talking with people about babies lately, I find myself talking about the fact that I haven't had one. And, man, that shit WEIRDS ME OUT. It's like I've been possessed by someone else. I hear statements like, "I regret I've never had a child" come out of my mouth, and I start feeling a little dissociated.

I've got a theory about this. Of course.

For the past 20 years or so, I've been adamantly opposed to having children. The strength of my opposition is based in on a long-held belief that I would make a *terrible* parent, that I would scream at my children and, when that failed to get the effect I wanted, I would beat the living shit out of them.

In other words, I have feared I would parent as I was parented.

Over the past couple of years, that belief has gone by the wayside. And, in the meantime, my biological clock has gone from quietly ticking along to suddenly sounding off with a clanging alarm. I attribute this to my age, 38, and to the intersection of my life this past year with S2's children, both of whom I adore.

They seem to be rather well-behaved compared to many other children I've known. This is partly genetics, but it's mostly the parenting they've received. They have two consistent, thoughtful, devoted parents who have been cultivating them from before birth.

I still suspect that, thanks to genetics and thanks to my own neuroticism -- which may approach legendary status by the time all is said and done -- I have good odds of producing a considerably troubled little being.

But for the first time in my life, there's an alternative story developing: one in which I might actually make a pretty decent mom. In my "ethnographic study" of S2's family, I've noticed the patterns that emerge in the communication and in the way the children are coaxed toward better behavior. And, periodically, I think: Hey, I could do that, couldn't I?

Yes, I could.

Perhaps somewhere along the line, I'll become a parent-by-proxy, hooking up in a serious relationship with a woman who already has children. But barring any unforeseen events that result in accidental pregnancy, I will not be giving birth to any children of my own.

Rather than having regrets, it seems best to recognize my life for what it is: a fortunate one. I am not a single, working mom trapped in a souless job. I have the freedom of coming and going when I please, and my only responsibility is to a dog that's small enough to take as a carry-on item.

I, your UCM, am one-of-a-kind. I will not be reproduced.

Perhaps that makes me all the more a treasure for those who find I'm to their liking.