The “Procreation Paradox”, by Topolino

Why do people have children? Versus adopting, I mean. There is so much hunger in the world, so many children already without anybody to take care of them and still we procreate.  And we want two, or three or even four of our own offspring as I heard someone recently.  Why? Our chances of survival as species would be much greater if we took better care of the humans already inhabiting the Earth. Why create more? One may label it selfishness. It’s easier to put a label. The explanation might be found buried somewhere deep inside the complicated maze of human psychic, but let’s just simplify and say that procreation is a very natural desire. We want to be biological parents so that we can leave something behind, so we can continue our existence on Earth, we want to see ourselves in our kids. People turn to adoption when adoption is their only chance of becoming parents. It takes altruism and guts to adopt. Yes, guts, more guts than childbearing and labour entails. Because, I believe, of all the reasons, the most prevalent is a practical one – we don’t want any surprises. We don’t want to take any risks with adopted children whether it’s about health issues or psychological or temperamental. We think it will be easier and more comfortable to deal with someone who was made out of our own ‘material’.

 (MINE! MINE! MINE!)

Surprise-surprise!  I am a mother and every day I marvel at my son’s uniqueness. I created a new human being, however it is not a replica of my own, it’s a whole new person with his own personality and his own thoughts, desires and actions. A new person who has nothing to do with me! And the differences will increase and the gap will get even wider as he grows up and matures. Hence the paradox.  I am a biological parent and still I often ask myself “where did he get this?”, “how did he come up with that?”. There is a twinge of pride – of course – I made this being and there is pride despite the fact that this new person has nothing to do with who I am. But I MADE him!I guess we are having children because it’s a way of uncovering our own potential, it’s our chance to create something important, and our chance to better ourselves. BUT this is a double-edge sword. By expecting to become better people through our children, we put a lot of pressure on them. However this is subject for another article J      

Feelings and Thoughts, 2003, by Topolino

I miss my dog. He died over two years and a half ago… It seems much longer than that. I miss him terribly.   I was 10 when my father gave him to me. I opened the door and there he was, a small head with two glittering and frightened eyes coming out of my father’s jacket. “Only milk and biscuits and a small box for him to sleep in – that’s all you need for him”, my father had said in order to convince my mum it was easy to keep a dog. From that night on he slept only in my bed and ate nothing but meat J. For 16 years. We grew up together; or rather I grew up because he always stayed the same cute little thing, always so playful and so young and so full of joy and life. I wouldn’t say he was like a brother or like a friend. Nothing like that. The truth is that he was my dog, I was his owner. He was mine, I was his. We were one.  I left him. After 15 years.  I came to
London. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought that my move wasn’t for good. Or that he would never die?! While I was packing he was climbing into my bags… I was so amused at the time, now I think of it and it breaks my heart. He wanted to come with me…. During the first year of my absence his health got worse and worse; in the summer I went home for my vacation, I saw him, I played with him, but it wasn’t like it was before. I wasn’t even sure he recognized me. Or maybe he was upset with me. Or maybe he was just very sick. One month after my visit he died.This dog, this tiny being, brought so much love and joy into my life and I am not sure if I gave him back enough. Or maybe I did but then I screwed everything up in the last year of his life.