Has anyone ever told you you would be a great podiatrist? How about a great pilot? Or maybe that you’d be a fabulous super model?
Suppose you have a horrible foot phobia, you’re afraid of flying, or you’re 5’2, and sane enough to know modeling is unlikely at best.
So then you stop to wonder- why did they suggest podiatry? Is it because I showed extraordinary empathy over their corns and calluses? Is it my love of travel that they believe would make me a confident and capable pilot? Am I just so strikingly beautiful that they feel I need to be on a display for all the world to see?
How about this idea that gets thrown around with even less thought than where to go for dinner: you’d be a great mom.
Is it because I’m kind-natured, responsible, and I love animals?
Is it because I’m a married thirty-something from the South with friends who all have babies or want babies? Is it because I seem to sort of have my life together?
The reality is if you start a career and then down the road decide it’s not for you, you can change your path, even if it entails spending lots of time and money on a new degree. Also, if you decide you don’t want the attention anymore, you can walk away from the runway.
If your spouse loses his or her mind, you can walk. If anything or anyone in your life is harmful spiritually or physically, with some courage, you can leave. And that is amazingly empowering to me. Like, unbelievably cool.
Am I the only person in the world who stops to consider that if you’re “a great mom,” these children that you parent are forever? Am I the only crazy person who thinks about how drastically life would change? Could I be the only person who worries that the little human could reek havoc on my marriage, my coveted sleep schedule, and my ability to have options that are freeing and empowering?
I am constantly overwhelmed just contemplating the finality of the decision to “be a great mom.”
I suppose “you would be a great mom” could be one of the kindest complements someone could offer. The thoughtful individual obviously feels that you are capable of producing, growing, and molding a human life, which must be the scariest of all responsibilities (except for maybe examining foot fungus). That said, I’m not out fishing for compliments. However, if someone wants to hire me as a super model, I suppose I can make myself available.