What Makes a Mother

I like to commute. It's something I never had enough freedom to fully enjoy when I still stayed in CDO. Among all the forms of transportation available in Metro Manila, my favorite is the MRT. I just love the way those large, silver machines swallow tickets. It makes me feel so... sophisticated. Haha.

Yesterday, the entire MRT3 line was jam-packed when I decided to travel. It was rush hour, see, and it didn't help that I boarded the train from a 'key area' on a Saturday. Tsk tsk tsk. Definitely a bad combination. Three trains had already whizzed by and I was still on the platform, being jostled forward by aggressive females. (Just to clarify, the MRT admin places the men in the longer compartment at the rear of the train while females, senior citizens and handicapped individuals ride the shorter compartment at the front.) Finally, when the fourth train stopped at our station, I found myself directly in front of the electric doors. Without even waiting for the push that I knew would follow as soon as the doors opened, I stepped inside the compartment.

It was sardine-can inspired, jam-packed with women, senior citizens, pregnant women, people who were considered 'fragile'. The scene was familiar to me; I always ride the front compartment. Something seemed... wrong though. Somewhere on my lower left, someone was making a shrill, irritating sound. I peeked over the shoulder of the tall man who stood at my left.

It was the first time I had seen kids in the MRT during rush hour.

It was difficult for them, I could tell. One of the kids even looked like he would throw a full-blown tantrum if his 'guardian' (the man who was at my left) hadn't ordered him to stop crying. The owner of the tinny, irritating voice was a little girl (the boy's sister, I suppose) who kept pushing herself into the gaps between people's legs, as though she was thinking, "My, how warm this feels!" Their big brother, quiet and unnaturally behaved for his height, er, age, kept pulling his siblings closer to him, as though he was fully aware of his responsibility to protect, to guard, to prevent any possibilities of his kin being squished by some unwary passenger in that train. It was cute, that scene.

What I found most amusing though was the look on the faces of the women around us. They all watched the kids' movements with faint smiles on their faces, some exchanging knowing glances, some looking wistful. Like... they wanted to have three short, puny, rowdy kids to call their own. At that moment, I didn't need a mirror to know that a smile of amusement was plastered on my face. The women, the children - they interested me.

Is it natural for women to want to have children? I've never imagined little girls and boys running around flower beds and freshly mown grass, although I have gotten to the point where I began to research baby names for 'the future generation'. And urgh, I'm not even the most loving person on the planet. How is it that I get the urge to interact with kids, no matter how much they terrify me? Is it because I'm an only child... am I that desperate for companionship? Or is it hormones?

What drives women to want children???