I’m a happy, successful woman. I have a wonderful husband of 5 years (together for 8) an amazing job, and between us, a superb disposable income that means we can go on amazing holidays every year, eat and go out whenever we want.
But I think I want children.
At least I do, until I have to hang around one for too long. Or think about giving up my freedom and money. My sister (she has 3 kids) says it’s different when they’re yours, and your love makes the sacrifices worth it.
I’m not really sure what I’m asking here.
Is having children that great?
Am I ready to have children?
I also hate hanging around unkempt, uncouth, and mostly unnecessary children
I understand your trepidation. I also hate hanging around with unkempt, uncouth, and mostly unnecessary children. They’re loud, they ask constant questions, or they just insist on telling you every single fact about their favorite TV show. Dogs that drive diggers and airplanes? Sure, whatever..
Having children means that you will give up your freedom and your money. It’s like the second a miniature person is ejected from your body, they go from sucking the literal life out of you from a tube, to sucking the literal life out of you through your wallet and time. They are little life suckers. Yes, if you put their hair in pigtails and pop a onesie on them they are adorable little life suckers. But life suckers all the same.
You won’t have time to socialise, to go out and have a life, but it’s ok, because whether you’re a working or stay at home parent, you most definitely won’t have the energy anyway.
I’ll just pose a few questions for you, based on some of my experiences today.
How would you feel if I poured a glass of milk in your lap?
What if I suddenly dropped to the floor in front of you and wailed like a howler monkey that got his balls caught in a tree branch for 6 1/2 minutes, only for me to suddenly get up and carry on as if nothing happened?
How about if I pulled everything out of the recycle bin, laid in out in a straight line through the centre of the house and called it an airplane?
Or how about if I had found the chocolate laxettes, scoffed them all in one go, and just now looked at you with a panicked look on my face before dashing to the toilet? (Side note, I laughed uproariously at this one, and unless this would be your reaction too I don’t think you’re quite ready)
Your sister says it’s different if they’re yours, and in my pre-kid days I heard this mantra all of the time. “If they’re yours you’ll love them” “they won’t be annoying if they’re yours”