When I was younger, in my early 20’s, I thought that I’d end up having kids like all of my friends. It was kind of an expected thing. I figured eventually I’d get the hang of the relationship thing and then there’d be kids.
Of course, that didn’t happen.
As I got older, I moved more and more towards the fence that divides the “I want kids” and the “I don’t want kids” yards. For the last couple of years, I’ve been firmly sitting on that fence. But in a gap between the posts because I like to be comfortable.
And recently, I finally took my first steps into the “I don’t want kids” yard.
So now I have to explain myself because there’s nothing that brings out the villagers with their torches and pitchforks with the intent of burning someone at the stake like a woman that doesn’t want to have children.
First and foremost, I like kids. I like babies. I like toddlers. I like teenagers when I have the option of smacking them upside the head. My saying that I don’t want kids isn’t a declaration of war against them or parents. I like kids. I also like koalas and tigers, but that doesn’t mean I want one of my very own. I must admit, being an aunt is great. I can have the kids and then I can give them back. Like going to the zoo.
Like I said, a lot of my friends have kids. My Facebook friends and Twitter followers have kids. I grew up in a daycare. I am more than aware how great kids can be. I’m also very aware that they’re a lot of work. And I admit, I’m not sure that it’s work I want to do. I could do it, I know that. But I’m not sure I want to.
Facebook has been particularly helpful with this. I see the people on my list bitching about the schools and the doctors and the hospitals and other kids and other parents and I think to myself, “Bullet dodged, Matrix style”. I don’t think I have the patience or the energy to go dealing with that crap and I certainly don’t want to be the person that bitches about it. It sounds like a real drag.
Now, here’s the thing.
Just because I’m in this yard doesn’t mean I’ll stay here.
I don’t like to rule things out. It makes me nervous not to have choices.
It’s entirely possible that I could meet someone that would like to have kids with me. And I would be open to that idea. If I had a partner that was willing to do the work with me, being a parent would look a little more appealing. And since I’m not one of those women insistent on having the kid myself (I’m squimish about pregnancy anyway; Alien made a great impact on my life), acquiring a kid by other avenues means that my fertility (or my partner’s) isn’t an issue.
What I’m saying is that it’s entirely possible that I might one day jump the fence again.
But for now, about the kids, no thanks.