Note: The following (actual) scenario is entirely off-topic. Humor me for a moment, and maybe someday (or at some point within this post, whichever comes later,) I’ll return the favor.
*First: Cue the obligatory makes-you-want-to-stick-your-fingers-in-your-ears or go-grocery-shopping elevator music.*
Random parent: “Good morning!”
Random parent: “We haven’t met before, but you have a kind face. Would you mind offering me affirmation that it wasn't a complete mistake for me to propagate the gene pool?” (Okay, so I’m paraphrasing. Trust me, it’s better this way.)
Random parent: (Digs their hand into their pocket, pulling out a photo of a young girl who, I’m sure, has a very nice personality.)
Me: Actual words spoken, “Aww, she’s going to be a heart-breaker!” Actual words thought: “Looking at this picture is breaking my heart.”
Random parent: (Looks disappointed that the elevator has arrived.)
Me: (Makes a mental note to blog about this some day after a life-altering PLM, then resolves to take the stairs next time.)
Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog.
Where were we? Oh, yes, blogs as babies. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that the two are similar in every way. Just most every way. Once you begin blogging, you enter a veritable time warp (they grow up so fast!), then there are the necessary (checks clock) 5:34 a.m.
Still, those reasons aren’t what led to my eye-opening realization that having a blog was a crucial step towards my bearing children. (If this progression from blogs as babies to my birthing children came as a surprise, then continue to the paragraph below. But, if somehow you sensed all along that I was burying the lede and that this post wasn’t about elevators, or blogs as babies at all, but instead about my rescinding my long-professed refusal to have children, then you and I--assuming that “you” are an unmarried male--belong together.)
To what, then, do my ovaries owe this change of heart? For three years, I nannied my way through college. During this time, I wondered why in the name of Capitalism anyone would ever choose to do something for free that they could do for money. Why should I populate the world with offspring of my own when I could just watch someone else’s, take home a check at the end of the day, and leave the lovable little monsters behind, to boot?
It turns out it’s for the same reason that I am writing this now. Since feeling the pressure to join the blogging world some years back, I often asked myself, “Why would anyone write for free when you can get paid for it?” So, I was content to freelance. Primarily, I wrote fluffy home design pieces (also known as “home porn” to The Other McCain). But, the voice was never my own, thus I never felt true joy at seeing the pieces published. All that has changed. Finally free to ramble on as I please, I now know what bliss it is to create and nurture something of your very own.
So, having embraced the opportunity to write words for free, the next logical step in my progression of free labor (no pun intended, really) is to have children for free. Which brings me to my final point (and the crowd breathes a sigh of relief): while my blog's baby daddy has already been announced, my actual baby daddy is still TBD. My vote was for Mitt Romney, but it seems he is already taken. I welcome your suggestions.