deciphering the days

There has always been a societal pressure for my husband and I to procreate. When we say we are not ready, the responses range from "you will be soon" to "no one ever is, you just do it anyway." But what if we aren't ready because we aren't going to get ready? As an adolescent, my mother regularly left me to tend to the younger children (to the extreme amount). I fed them, bathed them, watched them learn to crawl and walk, listened to their first words, taught them my name was 'sis' and not 'mom,' taught them to read and play games. My mother crowed about how she was teaching me responsibility and that "babysitting is the best form of birth control." Well maybe it was.  Here I am, about to turn thirty, without even a whisper of plans for children.  Occasional we are reminded that we will regret it if we don't have kids. For instance, who will care for us when we are older? And isn't it important to us to keep the family name...

It has been two years since I posted. Since I wrote.  I told myself that Covid was not affecting me that strongly. I don't mind wearing a mask. I'm not anxious about the vaccine. I am not very social anyway so there were only a couple of events cancelled that I cared about. The Kentucky Derby, my overseas trip, a family reunion or two.  Teaching digitally was what it was. Not my favorite, but it gave me enough time to complete a Master's degree. A lot of experimental learning was lost, but most of the chemistry content was translated to a digital platform. I was proud of my curriculum, and it felt infinitely superior to the chemistry lessons in my homeschool "course." It's been two years now and Covid is still around. I received a call from my school district saying we are still wearing masks, at least for now. That's fine - I don't mind. Life hasn't changed that much for me.  But I haven't written since a month or so after Covid first came int...