One of the cleaning ladies who came over is just a few years older than me but she has 12 grandchildren. They are small but still, 12 (twelve) grandchildren. When I said Klara was my daughter and there weren’t any adult children, we stared at each other like extraterrestrials.
I’m not the winner of this life competition, that’s for sure.
You definitely are, but not when you compete with idiots. 🙂
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I mean that some people don’t deserve to be your competitors.
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I guess different people have different goals. Some people use birth control and some don’t. Some are totally okay with being a cleaning lady. Some aren’t. My dad was a janitor with nothing more than a high school education. I have a PhD in Shakespeare, and a tenure-track job. Go figure.
My mom had my older sister when she was 19. (She married my dad at 18, just after graduating from high school.) I came around when she was 22. She had my younger sister at age 32. By age 33, my mom had a full head of gray hair. Everyone thought my sister was her granddaughter. She started dying her hair after that and has never gone back. So now she looks like she’s maybe late 40-s, early 50s, but she’s actually 63. My mom was a much better parent to my younger sister primarily because she was older, more experienced at life, and wasn’t as much into partying and drinking (to get drunk, daily). Meanwhile, Eldest’s best friend is 10, and his mom is 30. The mom’s grandfather just died, and he was, I think, in his late 60s, early 70s. That feels crazy to me.
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This post is poetry. Perfect.
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A conservative literary critic and college professor
Clarissa's Blog 
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