My mom’s been harping on me to have children since I turned 25. Granted, I wasn’t even engaged at age 25, but she wanted me to marry as soon as possible (even to a guy she didn’t even like) so that I could have children as soon as possible (and so that she could have grandchildren as soon as possible. That’s what this is really about). At ages 25, 26, 27, and 28, she kept warning me how dangerous it was to have children after 30. I thought the scary age according to doctors was 35? No, don’t listen to the doctors, she said. They don’t know. “I have wisdom,” she said. “Do what I say.”

Well, I didn’t listen. And here I am, 30 and childless. At least I am married now, so we’ve ticked off another box for her satisfaction. So she was saying to me that all my friends and I need to start thinking about babies soon. “You know that after 35, it’s no good to have your first child, so you must think about it now. After 35 is no good anymore.”

Isn’t it interesting how she adjusted her “scary” age to go along with what I am doing and not doing?