Interviewer: Let’s see here, Mrs. Okaty. You are applying for the job of mother. What experience have you had?
Former Self: None, Sir, but how hard can it be? I mean, we’re so much bigger than they are, right?
Interviewer: You would think, but actually, size doesn’t seem to matter. What qualifications do you have?
Former Self: Well…I have a college education, majored in English and minored in Anthropology. I can discuss the differences between austrolopithecus afarensis and australopithecus africanus. Oh, and I can quote nearly the entire introduction to Chaucer‘s Canterbury Tales, in Middle English, no less. Would you like to hear me?
Interviewer: No, I’ll take your word for it. I’m sure those skills will come in very handy. You’ll make your children, should we decide to give you any, very proud.
Former Self: Do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?
Interviewer: Let’s move on, shall we? How do you intend to pay for these children?
Former Self: Doesn’t the hospital take credit cards?
Interviewer: Ma’am, I’m talking about after the hospital. How will you financially provide for these children?
Former Self: Um…is this a trick question? I mean we have parents who will help. Haven’t you ever heard of grandparents? Duh!
Interviewer: Mrs. Okaty, I think you’re missing the point here. These are supposed to be your children, not your parents’ children. They will be totally your responsibility. No one else’s. Yours. Alone. Totally.
Former Self: …You mean forever?
Interviewer: Well, it might seem like forever, but your actual responsibility will end when they turn eighteen.
Former Self: That’s only five years younger than I am now and I feel pretty old already.
Interviewer: Believe me, you’ll feel a lot older before you know it.
Former Self: Jeez, I feel like I’m failing this interview and we really want those kids. I think they’d be kind of fun to play with.
Interviewer: Play with? I’m sorry. I thought you were interviewing for parenthood, not puppy adoption. Don’t worry Mrs. Okaty, all the other prospective parents don’t come in here any more prepared then you are. I don’t know why the Big Guy upstairs insists on these interviews. They’re really just a formality. I guess He’s hoping that some of you young people will realize how serious this parenting business is and plan a little better before you take the plunge. There’s no turning back, you know.
Former Self: So when my father said you could give them back before their third birthday, he was just kidding? Well, it’s good to hear that not many of us get rejected. I was beginning to worry. I’m not getting any younger and I want to get started on my brood so I can fit them all in.
Interviewer: Fit them all in? How many are you planning on having?
Former Self: Three. One of each, as my husband says…Don’t look so horrified. That’s a joke. You people don’t laugh much, do you?
Interviewer: Oh, we laugh more than you think. And the joke’s on you.
Former Self: I’m sorry, you were mumbling. Could you repeat that last part?
Interviewer: I said you are approved. Enjoy your life.
Love it Susan! And so very true!
This is hilarious, Susan. Loved, “You’ll feel a lot older before you know it!”
Thanks, Patti. Ain’t it the truth, though?
Wonderful Susan. I take exception with the part about the responsibility ending at age 18 though. I think I was still spending money on mine up to age 27.
Let me amend that, HG. We are legally responsible until they are 18, but we still help our kids out when we can or they need it, and they are 33, 36, and 39. It never ends.
I just know that I wouldn’t have passed that interview and then would have missed out on my two and then theirs. Love this Susan.:)
Ah, Judith, aren’t. You glad we didn’t have to pass a test? I wonder what the test would look like if there were one? Fodder for another post!
It’s a good thing there really isn’t an interview…or is it? I doubt I would have passed, and yet I had didn’t stop with the first either.
You turned out pretty good,mthough, in spite of having two kids as parents.
As a non-parent, I’ve become increasingly sure that I would fail the interview because I don’t possess the naivete’ that young, in love 20-somethings have. Sometimes, though, I think that’s actually a requirement. I figure you have to think it would be easier than it is in order to take that kind of gamble!
Your comment really made me laugh, Single Cell. You hit the nail on the head. We were young and in love and had no idea how to parent, though we thought we did. I wish we could have do-overs knowing what we know now, so we could really be the parents my kids deserved, right from the start.
Parenthood – it really is a leap of faith, isn’t it!
Margie, if we knew what it was all about before we jumped in, I wonder how many would actually take the plunge? So glad I did, though!
I loved the line “you could give them back before their third birthday”! I remember when we brought our first home from the hospital (he had severe colic the first 3 months) my husband actually asked me if we could bring him back to the nurses for a day so they could get him to stop crying. I think it was the sleep deprivation talking but we still laugh about that one today.
Thanks, Darla. Yes, sleep deprivation will make you say and do crazy things. It’s a wonder any of us, or our children, survived those early years. George and I were such kids when we had our first, 23 and 24, and we had no idea what parenting was all about.
Yes. I often say God is a practical joker.
How else can you explain our lives, Adela!
haha! “Three. One of each” – now that is funny.
George still says that, Country Wife, and the kids just shake their heads at poor old dad.
Remember the line from “Father of the Bride II” ??? when Steve Martin (or Diane Keaton) says something like “Doc, it was a moment of temporary insanity.” And the doctor replies. “Do you know how many moments of temporary insanity I have delivered?”
I like your interview…it does show some planning involved.
I never saw that second movie, Georgette, but I love that doctor’s line.