Village Idiots

One of my very best friends recently took the terrifying cliff dive into motherhood, and is now the exhausted but proud parent of a one-month-old daughter (who I happen to think is really cute, but I admit I may be slightly biased -- she could actually resemble one of those stomach-exploding spawn from Alien for all I know).

Despite the trepidation I feel about our future friendship, having heard horror stories of the strain that new motherhood can put on BFFs, I really am happy for her. Beth is one of those women who seem to be made to be mothers. She's awesome with kids, knows how to have fun with them AND properly discipline them (which I think is becoming a lost art in this country), and has never had a doubt in her mind that she wanted them.

But as happy as she is to be a Mom, she amazingly hasn't even tried to sugarcoat the horrors of becoming one, or how much it actually sucks on a day-to-day basis. Which is awesome for two reasons: 1) The blunt honesty is refreshing in a time when admitting that parenting is an unrelenting pain in the ass can get you branded as a bad mommy; and 2) It gives me plenty of blog fodder!

Since not every childfree person gets the chance to have their decision reinforced like this, I have a series of posts planned detailing some of the more heinous things Beth went through for her kiddo that make me happy not to have one of my own. There are horrors of pregnancy I didn't even know were possible beforehand; plus I was present for the birth itself, and despite the fact that I didn't pass out once, not even when they shoved a big-ass needle into her spine (go me!), it was an awful, awful, awful experience for everyone involved. And that doesn't even get me to the postpartum funtimes.

So to kick off the series, and because I'm not doing it in any semblance of chronological order, I'll start with one of the after-pregnancy social annoyances my friend has recently been experiencing: unsolicited parenting advice from complete strangers.

Beth remarked on a Facebook status update this week that she is already tired of strangers telling her how to parent her child. Since she's only a month into being a mother, doesn't leave the house often or for prolonged periods of time, and typically has a high tolerance level for bullshit (ask her husband) this must be happening almost every time she goes out.

Can you imagine? Picture leaving your house for a 15-minute trip to the supermarket, where at least 3 total strangers stop you, out of the blue, and tell you all the different things they do to whiten their teeth. Or look thinner. Or fix their hair. Or whatever.

The first couple of times you might just be slightly bewildered. A couple more times and you'd start wondering when the hell people decided it was okay to be so nosy and rude in public, and why no one sent you a memo. Several more times and you'd start offering people free vacations at Camp Smack-A-Fool, courtesy of The Back of Your Hand. (Or you'd at least be sorely tempted.)

I'm enough of a nutty hermit already; if I got accosted like that in public on a regular basis, the world would never see me again. I'd wind up ordering canned food and toilet paper off of Ebay, then starving to death if my Internet connection ever went out. The authorities would find me months later, curled around my keyboard atop a pile of hand-written emails to Mr. Toehole, my sock puppet friend.

So it's a good thing that, normally, most people in public mind their own damn business. That is, unless you have a baby. Then, apparently people suddenly decide it is their sworn duty to let you know all the stuff you're doing wrong with your kid, and how to correct your mistakes before you completely ruin your child's life, you horrible parent! Because it takes a village, right?

Ugh. And this little gripe doesn't even include all the other social annoyances that come along with childrearing, like play dates (shudder) and annoying, self-righteous super-mommies (shudder shudder).

No thank you. Kids, and all the rude, intrusive, unsolicited advice that goes with them, are not for me. And while it may not be the most pressing reason for my choice to forgo motherhood, avoiding all that unwanted attention is definitely a lovely perk of the childfree life!

Jaw Cleanup on Aisle 5

Just yesterday, my dear sweet mother said the awesomest thing EVER to me.

Well, actually, that's a lie. Everyone knows the most awesome thing their mothers could ever say to them is this:

"Sweetie, I have something very important to tell you. Your [insert obscure relative] wasn't fully human after all -- they're actually part [insert insanely awesome mutant/alien species/magical creature], and it turns out that [insert ridiculously cool supernatural ability] was passed on to you when you were born. Here's a fantastic spandex costume I've made you. Go have fun fighting crime and saving the world -- but be home in time for supper!"

Clearly, nothing could ever top that level of awesome. However, what my mom said to me yesterday may just come in at a close second.

First, a little background on my mother -- she has always loved kids, especially babies. And she's always made it clear that she would love to have grandkids.

Fortunately, she isn't one of those entitled, shrill harpy-types who insist that I produce fruit from my loins for her gratification or risk being summarily excommunicated from the family. So I've got that going for me.

But occasionally, I do feel twangs of remorse knowing that she'll never be a grandmother -- unless my brother has a condom mishap -- because I suspect she'd be one of those cool grandmas that let you get away with stuff you're not supposed to do, then send you back home with your parents none the wiser (wait, isn't that basically all grandparents?).

I let these little twangs of regret pass, watching them float through my mind like tiny, rattle-shaped wisps of cloud, before the sensible part of my brain quips, "Yeah, you're going to put yourself through 18+ years of filth, noise, exhaustion, worry and constant self-doubt just so your mom can have something small and human to cuddle -- for a very limited time -- on your monthly visits home. Suuuuuure."

The sensible part of my brain speaks only in Sarcasm. That's how I tell it apart from all the other voices.

Anyway. So I was in the local Gigantomarket with mom, and there arose from somewhere behind us that familiar ear-piercing, facial-twitch-inducing sound I'm sure you've all become seasoned connoisseurs of: the screamin' baby. Luckily, we were at that point navigating our Wobble Cart of Doom toward the exit, and I had high hopes of escaping before the headache imps could burrow their way into my auditory cortices and start jackhammering my delicate nerve endings. Then, IT happened.

My mother turned to me and said, "You know, every time I hear a baby crying like that anymore I think, 'Thank God I don't have grandkids!'"

The moments immediately following this revelation are still a bit blurry in my mind, but I'm pretty sure at least 5 store attendants were forced to do creative things with the spatulas and paint scrapers they sell for low, low prices in order to separate my jaw from the freshly-buffed floor.

Or maybe I made that part up. Like I said, it's a little fuzzy.

After presumably re-hinging my mandible, I asked her to repeat herself. And yes, she really WAS thanking a higher power that grandchildren had not been inflected upon her.

My sense of triumph in that moment was so palpable that, against all odds and laws of genetics, a Snidely Whiplash-esque handlebar mustache sprouted fully-formed from my face, which I then twirled in one finger as I laughed maniacally and replied, "AHA! I knew it! My powers of persuasion are unstoppable!"

Actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I just made that part up, too.

But still. It was amazing. This woman who had been dropping subtle hints (read: impromptu tours of sperm donation clinics) for years about her desire for grandsprogs, suddenly does a Heel Face Turn and says, "Y'know what, those things are really loud and annoying -- what a relief I don't have to put up with them anymore!"

And it makes me wonder -- are there any "10-100 Reasons I'm Glad I'm Not a Grandparent" lists out there? Perhaps written by an older generation of childfree pioneers from their comfortable and quiet retirement homes, inspired by friends and acquaintances stuck raising toddlers at age 65 while their own children languish in prison from a diverse array of drug charges?

There have to be lists like that out there. I mean, c'mon, this is the Internet. But until I find such lists, I think it's safe to say that, like fine wine or Sean Connery, the childfree life just gets better with age!

Lights! Camera! Train Wreck!

From the horrifically bad parenting department:

"Kate Gosselin 'Very Happy to Put Cameras Back in Front of Children"

"I am very happy I was able to put that back in their lives and there is nothing negative about it," Gosselin said during a Today show interview on Friday. "I love our crew. The cameras are on, and I love them. And the cameras are off, and they're helping me around the house. ... They are family. Production assistants come and babysit my kids sometimes even."

Hey parents! Want to earn some extra dough AND get free babysitting at the same time? Just have half a dozen or more kids at once, call over the nearest camera crew, and watch as the next episode of "This Is Your Life: Trainwreck Edition" is put on film for all to see. No, this couldn't possibly have any long-reaching ill effects on your children, whose privacy and dignity are mercilessly snatched away from them on a daily basis.

You know, I've always valued my alone time. Even as a kid, I would spend long periods locked in my room, sometimes reading, sometimes masturbating, sometimes just staring out the window daydreaming. In fact, when I was four my Dad had the gall to open the bathroom door and snap a picture of me while I was doing my business, because he thought that was funny, and I'm STILL pissed off about it.

However, as much as my Dad was an ass, I was fortunate enough not to have one of those brooding hen-type mothers who just had to know what I was up to at every second of every day, never giving me a moment's peace. Apparently I was more fortunate than I thought, because I also didn't have a mother who insisted on allowing a full-fledged film crew to follow me around the house like my life was some kinda sitcom.

And sure, maybe Gosselin's kids don't mind so much now (I wouldn't know, because the thought of actually watching a show like that makes me want to turn my stomach inside out and hose it down with a pressure washer), but what happens when they're all surly, maladjusted teenagers trying to find a date to prom? What about their first day of college? Their first job interviews? These kids are going to have this show hanging over their heads for the rest of their lives. They'll always be known as the "Jon & Kate Plus 8" kids. Part of that terrible reality show that everyone watched way back when reality shows were the going fad (please, God, let it be just a fad!).

Here we have a mother who is so accustomed to having absolutely no privacy at all (courtesy of having 8! kids!) that she is incapable of understanding how anyone else would want it, either, let alone the members of her own brood. For her, the camera crew isn't an intrusion -- it's free babysitting! Come on in, ladies and gentlemen, and when you're done filming the intimate, mundane details of our lives, you can help with the dishes!

There can only be one explanation for this, and I think I've figured it out. Having that many kids all at once makes you clinically insane, and so desperate for a tiny bit of fleeting relief from the crushing parental responsibilities that you will happily force your helpless children to be filmed and shown on national TV just for some extra help with chores.

This brings me to just a few of the things I relish about being childfree:

1. Never having to sacrifice so much of my solitude that I forget what privacy is, or why other people might need it.
2. Never being so desperate for housework help that I make my home life into a televised circus.
3. Never running the risk of having children who grow to despise me for putting them in a bad reality TV show when they were kids.

Three more reasons to celebrate the childfree life!

The Joys of Childfreedom

Hello, childfree peoples of the world! I'm CFJ, yet another young adult who has chosen to forgo the extremely dubious "rewards" of parenthood for a life less ordinary! Although the Childfree movement certainly seems to be gaining steam, actively choosing to not have kids is still a radical decision in a culture where adulthood is equated with marriage and breeding and children rule their families like little diaper-clad dictators.

For those of us who have set ourselves firmly on the less-traveled childfree path, it can, at times, be a hard row to hoe. Discrimination against adults without children is ubiquitous, in both overt and subtle forms. There's the constant harassment from well-meaning family members, friends and acquaintances ("So when are you having a baaaaybeee?"), the tax breaks we miss out on, the extra work that gets pawned off on us because parents have to take off to deal with the latest kid crisis, the terrors of other people's ill-mannered spawn in nearly every public arena nowadays, having our judgment and character questioned by everybody from doctors to talk show hosts...I could go on.

BUT! Before you start thinking that a childfree life is one long, Rodney Dangerfield-esque whine fest, let me just say that all those annoyances and injustices are nothing compared to the indignities and never ending toil of parenthood. Those things I mentioned above are SO worth putting up with in exchange for never having to deal with childrearing.

"But how can you possibly know about the toils of parenthood if you're not a parent? Huh? Answer that one, smartypants!"

You see, there's this nifty thing called "observation". And lemme tell ya, most childfree people have gotten very good at observing parents. You don't notice it (because you're too busy corralling your screaming brats), but we watch you constantly. We take note of the harried look in your eyes, the disastrous state of your home, the feverish pace at which you do everything. We patiently listen to your complaints about the lack of sleep, lack of privacy, lack of intimacy, lack of money, lack of free time, lack of spontaneity, etc. And mentally, we take notes. "Yep, another item to add to my list of reasons I don't want kids!", we think as you show us your ripped up $500 armchair that little Jimmy thought was filled with popcorn.

And after making all these observations, we come to the conclusion that having kids just isn't for us. Despite how much parents try to justify their stressful, hectic lives with, "But it's all worth it in the end!", or "But it's different when it's yours!" Frankly, we don't believe you.

Does this mean childfree people hate parents? Of course not (although we totally do hate bad parents). Does this mean we hate kids? Again, of course not. Many of us love kids -- they can be adorably cute, uninhibitedly imaginative and refreshingly zany. But you know what we love even more than kids? Getting to give kids back to their parents when they've stopped being cute and started being bratty little hellions. And don't try to tell us that not all kids are like that. They are -- yes, even yours. We've seen proof.

For most childfree people it's not about hate. It's about the costs of parenthood outweighing the benefits. Or, conversely, the benefits of a childfree lifestyle outweighing the benefits of parenthood.

And that is one of the most important things I'd like to get at in this blog: the joys of living childfree. Because despite all the flak we catch for our choice, a life without kids is overwhelmingly a life of peace, tranquility, beauty, and above all -- freedom! If that isn't something to be downright jubilant about, I don't know what is!