Yes, you heard right. My husband and I have decided not to have kids.

I get it. I’ve been married for almost two years now; I’m about to turn forty next month; and I adore my nephews and niece.

I understand the need for some to ask me: “Are you going to have children?”

What I don’t understand though, is the unasked-for advisement that comes next, after I’ve confirmed the fact that they did hear right – my husband and I are not having children.

It’s a choice. We weren’t told we couldn’t have them (though the odd thing is, since neither of us have ever tried or been in that situation, we don’t really know if we actually could do it naturally… but I digress.) Let’s put it this way. We could have all the money in the world and we’d still be making this decision. It’s not the expenses, though that IS a freaky thought these days.

So, what’s the reason? Everyone wants a reason. And we’ve thought about it, because, well, we want one too.

If I had to say a main reason, it would be that both of us want whatever time we have left on this planet to be spent how we want, not how it’s best for offspring. See to us, having a child is THE ultimate responsibility and to be frank, we’re choosing to go another way.

Call us selfish. That’s fine. We are in this regard. But isn’t it great that we know this about ourselves, therefore making it a good thing we aren’t bringing children into the world? And if you really think about it, what we’re doing is… well, the smart thing.

But oh, the advisement….

I’ve heard everything… passionate pleas to give it more thought, details on how to freeze my eggs (for when I come to my senses no doubt), stories of regret, sermons on my “duty”, stares of awe…

On the flip side, however, I do get the occasional high-five and/or big smile of understanding. Those rare souls are rays of sunshine, not because they’re of similar mind (some have children of their own, like my parents!) but because they see it as a choice.

And isn’t that the whole point?

Children are a choice we make with our bodies. Or welcoming those from other’s bodies into our lives.

And in my opinion, this choice should be taken extremely seriously.

I know my husband and I do. Very much. Hence, our decision…

(One final thought for now in case it comes up… if my choices don’t adhere to your religious beliefs, please know you can take comfort in the fact that I have to deal with any consequences you think will come, not you. Also, don’t forget that if YOU have children, THEY have to deal with YOUR consequences. Why not focus on that?)

 

 

 

A most interesting mirror

can be in the form of a wildly precocious three-year old nephew.

Last weekend, this young boy no taller than my mid-thigh, spent three full days and nights living with myself and my parents (his grandparents) and I think I may have learned more about myself in those three days than perhaps I had in quite a while. I was also shuffling some other things around in my mind so perhaps it was fate that this weekend occurred or maybe I just paid more attention than usual, but regardless, I had the most fascinating weekend.

You just never know.

Rather than bore you with extended details of the entire seventy-two hours, many of which I was nowhere near my nephew, I thought I’d just write, in the form of a script, a few of the reflections I saw in this mysterious and honest mirror.

SCRIPT

At a modern family home in Los Angeles, a NEPHEW (3) and his AUNT (35) hang out and chat on various occasions over a three-day period…

Nephew: Are you going out tonight?
Aunt: Yeah.
Nephew: Why?
Aunt: I’m hanging out with my boyfriend.
Nephew: Just tell me, are you going to a bar?

Nephew: Let’s play Auntie.
Aunt: Hang on, I’m finishing up something on my computer.
Nephew: I want to play.
Aunt: Hold on, I’ll be done soon.
Nephew: You’re on your computer a lot.

Nephew: Your office is kinda dirty.
Aunt: Well… I haven’t vacuumed it in a while.
Nephew: I’ll do it.

Aunt: I’m a little sad right now.
Nephew: Why Auntie?
Aunt: Just not feeling very pretty right now.
Nephew: You’re pretty in your sparkly shirt. But not this shirt.

Nephew: Get up!
Aunt: I’m still sleeping.
Nephew: Why do you want to sleep more?
Aunt: I like to sleep.

Nephew: Why can’t I say bad words?
Aunt: Because they are disrespectful.
Nephew: But everyone says bad words.
Aunt: Uh…

Aunt: Here sweetie, I made you eggs and bacon.
Nephew: Why are these scrambled eggs brown?
Aunt: They’re burned a bit.
Nephew: Oh.
Aunt: I’m not great at making eggs.

And one for the road, taken directly from being on the road…

Nephew: Wow, outside is going by quick.
Aunt: Oh. Oops. Auntie sometimes drives too fast.

Signs you might not want children

Yes, as I’ve mentioned before in various posts, I am one of those people who just don’t think children are part of their journey. In my twenties, I was kinda on the fence. Not sure what path my filmmaking career would take me on, I placed only it in top priority and then acted from there. When I entered my thirties, it became clearer that having children, who are, I might add, the most precious thing on earth, was not becoming any more important to me.

There were also, though, a few other signs…

Signs you might not want children…

1. the only kids you want to be around are the ones you know.

2. after four hours of holding, cleaning, feeding and changing a baby, you’re ready for their grandparent/parent to return.

3. despite how much you want your nephew to ask questions, you lose your patience after the fifteenth consecutive “why?”

4. the idea of being responsible for another human being poses an incredibly strong problem for your OCD.

5. you sucked at baby-sitting when you did it as a teen, but hated doing it anyway.

6. alone time means too much to even contemplate giving it up.

7. you think overpopulation is a SERIOUS problem.

8. having nephews/nieces COMPLETELY offers enough child bonding for you.

9. you’d much rather your friends make their events “adults only.”

10. you never see a parent/child and think, “Aww, I wish I had that,” but rather think, “Yeah… Thank God I don’t have that…”

11. you’d rather be able to drink alcohol, stay slim and eat sushi than go without for nine months.