There’s that thing when you’ve been in a relationship for a while (or even if you haven’t) where people start asking when you’re going to get married and if you’re going to have kids. Actually, no, they don’t ask. They just sort of state it as a fact. “So, going to get married and have kids already, lah!”
I really don’t like kids. None of that googly-eyed, broody gushing when I see anything below the age of 18. I’m just not one of those people who know what to say to kids, how to talk to them, how to look interested – nutin’. It’s like putting a soft toy in front of me and expecting me to have a conversation with it (except, worryingly enough, I would probably have more things to say to a teddy, than I would to a kid.) I just find it really tedious and boring talking/googling to them.
So the thought of having one myself scares me to death, through to limbo and into a rebirth in some place with no running water. Also, quite bores me. Also, I just don’t fancy the bloating, constipation, big horrible labour pains and stretch marks from pregnancy. Also, I'm a selfish brat and sure ain’t ready to give up any of my free time or start planning college funds.
No babies for me, for now.
So when people bring up the kid thing, I’m all quick to go, “Errrrrr, nah, not for me right now.”
And they always, always look at me with a really horrified look, like “What?! Why don’t you want kids?” or they give this really sad, pitiful look, followed by, “Don’t worry, you’re still young. You dunno what you want yet. You’ll change your mind!” *smug look*
So damn patronising. Okay, so maybe I will change my mind and start my own little breeding factory; or maybe I won’t. Why do so many people go around making it their business, acting as if it’s such a must? Would it really be so bad if I didn’t change my mind? They all act like it’s so weird and so darn stupid not to want kids, like I’ve screwed up my whole life schedule.
Hmph. As if the world isn’t already over-populated. As if there aren’t already enough poor, unwanted kiddies in the world. As if I haven’t got better things to do than sit around planning baby names while I’m still on the pill.
It’s annoying enough when it’s someone older saying that; it’s even more annoying when it’s someone your age, acting all smug and pregnant.
And even worse is when these same smug people with their bagfuls of toys/milk/diapers/babywipes force their screaming, snarling little bundle of new organs into your arms, usually because they assume that just because they think their little terror is cute, everyone else will to.
So you pretend to be polite and make the obligatory ga-ga noise at them. And sometimes, by some unfortunate glitch in your luck, the howling monster will actually smile at you – at which point proud parent jumps up in glee and squeals, “Oohhhhhh! She liiiiikes you! Seeeeeeeeeee, it’ll be your turn soon too!”
So does being polite to a baby now rack up extra points for you with the stork? Well, I’m making sure that stork stays hell far away and if it does come a-calling, it better be prepared to suffer having its wings well clipped.
Anyway, if other people want to have dozens of babies that’s fine (as long as I don’t have to do that pretend-interest thing). In fact, despite my baby-aversion, I find this sort of strange, unexpected surge of excitement whenever I hear of someone I know and love being preggers.
But, look folks, I just don’t want one.
And what I want even more if is people didn’t try to convince me that I do want one.
Maybe I just get myself a pet. Far more agreeable and well behaved, far cuter and none of that rude teenage rebellion to deal with. Budgie? Hamster? Sea monkeys?