There are worse things

kids

I accidentally swallowed a cherry pit yesterday.  I’m concerned that this will result in either (1) even stranger things happening with the already strange poo I have going on or (2) a cherry tree will grow in my stomach and sprout out of my mouth.

I’m actually more concerned about the latter, no matter how unlikely it may be.  In fact, the idea of anything growing inside me really freaks me out.

Yeah, that includes babies.

I’m not sure it will come as much of a surprise that I don’t want children.  Now please, please don’t get all offended.  I’m not saying I don’t like children, or that I have any negative opinions of anyone who chooses to have children, or anything of the kind.  I simply do not want them.

You may have noticed my immediate need to defend myself once I expressed my desires.  This need has evolved over the past 10 years of being torn to bits in various ways when I say I don’t want kids.  Since I’m not actually a heinous person who chews the face off everyone I eat (most of the time), I’ve grown accustomed to people’s reactions when my lack of desire for a family comes up in polite conversation.

But in honor of my potential cherry tree baby on a Monday, here’s what I really want to say when confronted with the top three remarks every person on the planet seems to have when I tell them I don’t want kids.

Remark 1:  What do you mean you don’t want kids?  Kids are wonderful, they bring you a lifetime of joy.  If you don’t like children you must be evil or an atheist or something.  You kick puppies don’t you?  You evil Satan worshiping whore.

What I say:  No no, I love children and I go to church religiously whenever my grandmother guilts me into it every 5 to 7 years.  Children are wonderful and beautiful.  I’m just not worthy of having such a beautiful cherub to call my own.

What I want to say:  Of course I don’t want kids.  Look at yours.  One is eating you shoe the other just vomited on your shirt and both are screaming for you attention.  I can’t even hear the second half of your judgmental rant because of all the noise they’re making.  I walk around my house stark naked pretty much all the time, kids would totally cramp my style.  Am I selfish as shit?  Sure, but don’t worry, I’m happy.  Very, very happy.

Remark 2:  No children?  Who will take care of you when you get older?

What I say:  I know, it will be such a problem!  I guess I should start saving for retirement now.  You’re so lucky that you’re such a wonderful parent that your children will be there for you then just as you are there for them now.

What I want to say:  Probably a hot male nurse named Sven.  I’m well invested, and because I don’t have hundreds of thousands in expenses of raising a little mini mutant and putting their ungrateful ass through college, I’ll probably be a millionaire here right quick.  I figure, by 50 hubs and I will retire and move into some swanky community where all I have to worry about is what designer swimsuit I’m going to wear to the pool and my spa appointments today.

Remark 3:  Don’t worry, you’re still young, you have plenty of time to change your mind.

What I say:  Yes, you’re right.  Of course you’re right.  Thank you so much for believing that my uterus hasn’t yet dried up and my hopes of future spawn haven’t yet died out.

What I want to say:  Unlike you, I’m not a total flighty twit.  First off, I’m not that young.  I’m turning 30 this year and I haven’t wanted children, EVER.  I am fully capable of making a decision and standing by it.  I would never be condescending as shit towards you for your decision to start a family, and it’s really effed up that you feel the need to be so towards me about my decision not to.

 

In closing, I love that you love your children.  Heck, in some cases I love your children.  But seriously, I don’t want any.  Stop trying to sell me on the idea, all it does is piss me off and force me to bottle up my emotions and then drink heavily until I can’t feel my feelings anymore.

You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.  I’m happy that you’re happy.  Be happy for  me too.

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10 thoughts on “There are worse things

  1. This blog post makes me happy, because Bob and I haven’t decided if we want kids yet.

    So when people ask when the kids are coming (first of all, what a RUDE QUESTION because what if we COULDN’T have kids or we had been trying for years or I’ve had a miscarriage or my baby was stillborn or something else tragic happened) and I tell them I’m not sure, I get the same exact responses. Mostly the “you’re still young” comment and the “but they bring you so much love!” comment.

    So annoying. And so frustrating. And why is it any of their business, anyways!?

    1. Exactly. On some of my snarkier days I’ve said, “we can’t have kids” just to see their expressions, because let’s face it, sometimes people’s comments are rude.

  2. My favorite: “you do want kids you just don’t KNOW you want kids”. Thanks, complete stranger, for coming along to clarify – I never would have realized! From people we know “but you love our kids so much, you’re so great with them”. yes, I have the sense of humor of a 5 year old. I fart & giggle and they worship me forever. That doesn’t make me mom material. My standard reply these days “kids would interfere with my workouts”. It’s a new layer of confusion on top of confusion for them and they back off. Sorry I got wordy.

    1. Haha, don’t ever apologize. I like your enigma inside a connundrum. It’s fantastic.

      I agree that complete strangers are the worst.

      Second only to being asked “when are you due?” When you are not, in fact, pregnant.

      Unless you count that double decker burrito as a baby. A food baby.

    1. I make plenty of bad decisions stone cold sober thankyouverymuch.

      I am also a birth control nazi. No amount of alcohol can penetrate the past what… 15 years of hormonal supression.

  3. No nugget! You’re not going to grow a tree. I eat the seeds in almost every fruit I eat. Watermelon and oranges. That’s my philosophy on how I’ve started to grow this blueberry in my belly. Apparently it was all the watermelon seeds that I have accumulated throughout my life. Now one is literally growing. But you’ll be fine. ❤ U

    1. So what you’re saying is… I need to worry more about the poo. Damn it. 🙂

      Eeeeeee babies!!!! See, I like kids… just dont want one of my own. I’m super excited for you and your blueberry.

  4. Omg I should write my version of this someday. We are undecided – but hey, we are also not yet married, and I want to take my time, one step at a time. We might wind up with kids…we might not. But basically, having a child is like getting a tattoo on your face: it hurts like a bitch, costs a ton of money, and you will have it FOREVER. I also tell people “you know, if I did want kids and couldn’t, this conversation would be incredibly painful.” ESPECIALLY when they act like I just don’t KNOW I want kids yet.I had a friend go through a lengthy “trying” period, and every conversation with idiots like this was terribly painful 😦

    1. That’s awful. I hadn’t really thought about that side of it before, but I can see where the people that make me angry as hell would make someone who wanted kids and coudln’t have them want to off themselves. Why are people such idiots?

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