While checking my e-mail this morning, and 1 click leading me through a series of nosy clicks, I came across this article in New York Magazine.
Entitled “Why Parents Hate Parenting”, it caught my eye immediately. Those who know me personally, know my disdain strong dislike for small children.
-The way they just stare at you, mouth agape. Why don’t they know this is socially unacceptable?
-They way they cry & whine uncontrollably for no f*cking reason.
-The way they cough without covering their mouths.
-The way they wipe it on you.
-The other day I saw a train car full of kids and a car with a dude who looked like a whack job. Deciding between the two, I opted for the car with the lunatic–even though he reckless eyeballed me, was a weirdo, he wouldn’t stand on my thighs to “look out the window”.
This is just a prologue to the qualities I can’t stand. Needless to say, it sounds like I don’t have what many call a “motherly instinct”.
As my 2*th birthday hurdles toward me on July 19th, I am realizing that maybe, maybe I should ease up on this sentiment…
until the magazine article reinforced it. Perhaps it’s best line:
“They’re a huge source of joy, but they turn every other source of joy to shit.”
is in reference to children. From a psychologist who had kids.
I know I’m not crazy if a damn head doctor thinks it (mainly) sucks.
In a harrowing conversation with my roommate Ithamar (whom I affectionately refer to as “Turkey”) this weekend, she stated that if she got pregnant right now, she’d know myself & Katiana (her sister, “Sausage”) would be there to help her through it– to which I responded– I don’t want to “just get pregnant”. In my mind, marriage comes 1st. Happiness. Career. Financial stability. Mental & physical preparedness. A legion of eager babysitters.
Maybe I’m stupid.
Turkey proceeded to say that if she did manage to get pregnant, (mind you, I had to comb her hair on Sunday) she’d be emotionally equipped to take care of it.
“I don’t know what I’d do” sputtered out of my mouth. This is because a blank picture showed up in my mind. Not only do I feel this way because I plain don’t like the thought of a crying baby, I seriously don’t know what I would do.
Maybe I feel this way because people surrounding me (including many of my friends) had children at a young age– a time where partying & fashion were above foolishness like homework -and- hell, the bambino was unexpected.
An excerpt from the section entitled “All Joy and No Fun”:
This is the brutal reality about children—they’re such powerful stressors that small perforations in relationships can turn into deep fault lines. “And my wife became more demanding,” he continues. “ ‘You don’t do this, you don’t do that.’
But the thought of having a baby & it turning around & tearing up your relationship??
Great. As if there’s already not enough to worry about.
Not that I’m currently engaging in any activity that would result in pregnancy I even see a dude I’d remotely even consider having a serious relationship with, but this is something to keep in mind.
I do have tots in my life– 2 dear, adorable cousins who I love to bits, Sausage’s son, and basically all my other friend’s children.
But other people’s kids are damn sure the best birth control. You can always give them [insert 5-letter adjective here] back.
Perhaps if infant crying sounded something like this
I’d be all for it.