My brother has three nearly grown kids and some variation of a constant question whenever I see him:
"When are you gonna have kids?"
Or, "Why don't you go get some seeds?"
Or, "Isn't your clock gonna explode soon? Get all rusty and freeze up on you?"
Eloquence runs in my family.
Kids don't. Out of 5 adult siblings, only 2 of us have procreated. I'm not one of them.
My mantras: I *think* I want kids. I don't want to ruin them. I don't want them to ruin me, which will ruin them.
Snake eats its tail.
Yesterday, after the course of some high pressure darktime hours with God, I get it. Yes. Kids. Babies. Offspring. I'd be a good mom. And maybe a nutter of one, okay. But yeah. Kids and me would go very well together.
Then I saw this post today on THE HAPPINESS PROJECT and it made me snicker while giving me perspective in all of 20 seconds. It's in the video linked here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Nothing wrong with not having kids. I'm good with them, but have never desired one of my own. This may be due to some horrific babysitter experiences I had when I first got married, but I've created a whole slew of socially appropriate reasons for being barren since then.
ReplyDeleteI figure I procreate stories.
The plus side of this is that my stories won't complain about me in therapy or yell "I hate you" when they turn 15.