People ... people who make people
Everyone is having babies.
I know, I know, people are supposed to make babies, propagation of the species and all that. But ... babies. I think the almighty creator missed an ingredient when he was intelligently designing my maternal instincts, because I don't know what to do with larval humans. No idea. And no real desire to have an idea. I like to give them gifts, pull faces at them for a few seconds, then slowly back away to do something carefree and adult, like drive a car in the opposite direction while listening to an exceptionally dull and in-depth NPR report, or drink scotch silently by an open fire with a copy of American Psycho.
Some of the recent bumper crop of babies I'm experiencing obviously has to do with being of a certain age. I'm 26. People my age have babies. But ... I know older people having babies too. And younger people.
If Douglas Adams hadn't made the joke already, I would write an endearingly hilarious monologue here about a non-maternal woman who didn't know she was a fertility goddess.
The only real downside to my opinion vis a vis babies is that my mother is utterly convinced that, according to my Chinese astrological chart, it is vitally imperative that I give birth during the year 2010. I need to have a baby in the Year of the Dragon, or all hell with break loose; my marriage will fall apart, my uterus will fall out, and the sky will no doubt fall down. A few years ago, she was grudgingly satisfied with my assertion that I might consider the possibility of maybe adopting a child who was born in that year ... perhaps a few years afterwards, when said child would be able to form complete sentences, recognize subtle irony, and appreciate cyberpunk fiction. Now it's give birth in 2010 or face the apocalypse.
As far as I can tell, I'm damned either way, so I may as well not drag children into it.
In the meantime, I am seriously considering becoming involved with the local Cat Angel Network, despite their newsletter, which makes them sound ever so slightly like crazy cat ladies. Cats are awesome. They bury their own poo.
And ... uh ... congratulations to all you procreating people out there. Better you than me.
I know, I know, people are supposed to make babies, propagation of the species and all that. But ... babies. I think the almighty creator missed an ingredient when he was intelligently designing my maternal instincts, because I don't know what to do with larval humans. No idea. And no real desire to have an idea. I like to give them gifts, pull faces at them for a few seconds, then slowly back away to do something carefree and adult, like drive a car in the opposite direction while listening to an exceptionally dull and in-depth NPR report, or drink scotch silently by an open fire with a copy of American Psycho.
Some of the recent bumper crop of babies I'm experiencing obviously has to do with being of a certain age. I'm 26. People my age have babies. But ... I know older people having babies too. And younger people.
If Douglas Adams hadn't made the joke already, I would write an endearingly hilarious monologue here about a non-maternal woman who didn't know she was a fertility goddess.
The only real downside to my opinion vis a vis babies is that my mother is utterly convinced that, according to my Chinese astrological chart, it is vitally imperative that I give birth during the year 2010. I need to have a baby in the Year of the Dragon, or all hell with break loose; my marriage will fall apart, my uterus will fall out, and the sky will no doubt fall down. A few years ago, she was grudgingly satisfied with my assertion that I might consider the possibility of maybe adopting a child who was born in that year ... perhaps a few years afterwards, when said child would be able to form complete sentences, recognize subtle irony, and appreciate cyberpunk fiction. Now it's give birth in 2010 or face the apocalypse.
As far as I can tell, I'm damned either way, so I may as well not drag children into it.
In the meantime, I am seriously considering becoming involved with the local Cat Angel Network, despite their newsletter, which makes them sound ever so slightly like crazy cat ladies. Cats are awesome. They bury their own poo.
And ... uh ... congratulations to all you procreating people out there. Better you than me.
- One step closer to updating the RAM in my brain.
- Daniel Radcliffe in Equus. [Insert noise of surprise and curiosity]
Labels: cats, psychobabble
posted by Mormolyke at
10:28
7 Comments:
You'll be pleased to note that I'm still yet to have a baby! Maybe I'm not doing 'it' right?
I'm not having a baby this year. Or next year. Or probably the year after. But yes, it seems everyone around me is getting pregnant or already has babies.
children are horrible, they display all the traits i hate in adults, they're rude, selfish, messy, stupid and smelly. I do realise that they can grow into nice adults...maybe. My boyfriends mother keeps asking me when she is going to be a grandmother, apparently 23 is the perfect age to be shooting out a few critters.
I love babies. And I am pretty good with them if I do say so. I am particularly tickled when one of my co-workers brings her baby girl to work. Just makes me feel good.
That being said, I do not think that you should feel pressured to have a baby. If it ain't your thing, then it just ain't. You got enough other stuff that is your thing, y'know?
I wish fewer people would pressure young folks into having babies, and then channel their concerns into making things better for future generations.
These folks that drive their broods around in hummers, hey? They'll tell you that they love their kids while actively showing the rest of the world what a complete disdain they have for any and all in coming generations. That includes their own.
I have a daughter. She was a happy accident. I am so glad that I have her and can't imagine life without her. Still, I would be lying if I said that if I hadn't had her my life wouldn't have been complete. It just would have been a different kind of life. This statement doesn't lessen my love of her in any way. I just say it to affirm that I don't feel that I had to become a parent to ultimately be a complete person. I'm reasonably sure that my wife would tell you the same thing.
You don't have to go gaga over babies to demonstrate that you care about kids. One good way to show that you care about kids is to not have them if you don't feel that you want to be a parent.
Soooo.....there ya' go...yer on the right track.
It'll happen. You know it will. You won't expect it to happen, you won't think about it, but it'll happen, and you'll love it. You won't expect to love it, but you will - and that's not just the sleep deprivation talking. Seriously, they'll let anyone be a parent. Exhibit A for the prosecution: [insert another goddamn photo of six-week-old son just to irritate everyone]
Mr Appleby, being medically trained (by the University of Doing Degrading Things With Cadavers), may already be aware that he might not be doing 'it' right. But neither was the guy they fired from the New South anatomy dept.
Allegedly.
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The Cat Angel Network is truly a bunch of old cat ladies (with one exception - because he's a male), but if not for them, who would even care about the cats. You can be one of them, but be aware that cat-poop doom brought on by pee goddess with nice tails awaits you.
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