At this age, most of my friends are married and most of those married friends are starting their families. Some even have 2 kids! Crazy, I know. Alas, I was talking with a few friends: Julie, David, Erika, Heather and Megan (albeit not at the same time) and those who have staunchly stood next to me in the “No Baby” front are switching sides and saying creepy things like, “Well, they’re not all that bad…” and “Why else would you get married to someone?” (Um, I dunno, for love?!)
I thought about why I don’t want kids so much. I’m actually good with kids, especially babies since all you need to do is feed it and change it; it’s not like you really need to do much when they’re newborns since all they do is sleep, eat, and poop; very similar to having a dog except the baby won’t dig through the trash or want you to play fetch with it in the wee hours of dawn. As a matter of fact, I have changed every single one of my cousins’ diapers save one, and I’m pretty awesome at keeping it entertained, carrying it, and doing whatever you need to make a baby happy.
It’s just…I don’t want that kind of responsibility. I don’t know if I can be consistent enough to raise a child well. I’m afraid of being too strict like my parents, too indifferent with the kid, and just feeling trapped. People keep comparing children to animals and I want to be like, “No, a dog is NOT like a child, nor is a cat and you should never think that because you can keep a dog or cat, you should be able to have a kid.” I’m not even a consistent dog owner. I get lazy sometimes and I don’t walk Cooper for as long as he probably needs when the weather is shitty or when I’m just feeling lazy. I like to go out with friends, have some drinks, and come home to pass out and Cooper is just fine with that as long as I take him out 3 times a day. Sometimes he’s even fine with 2 times a day.
It’s not the responsibility thing that gets me or the fact that I am responsible for raising a living breathing thing that came out of me. It’s my parents. My mom has, from as long as I can remember, told me that my brother and I are the only reason why she stuck around with my dad. My mom placed all that guilty weight of misery on the shoulders of my brother and me. She loved us, sure, and still loves us, but I think she used us as an excuse to explain her unhappiness and explain why she stayed with my dad for as long as she did.
My dad’s not any better. He was never really in the picture of raising me unless it was for disciplinary measures. He attempted to teach me how to ride a bike (fail), swim (epic fail), tutor me with my homework (even more epic fail), and had the “talk” (awkward and like, 6 years too late). He expressed no interest in my personal life, didn’t know who I hung out with let alone let me hang out with anyone, and dictated every aspect of my life. It made me resent him and fear him. I know for a fact that I will use those tactics on my future children because I see myself doing those things with guys I end up dating when they’re those pussy-ish guys. I control them because it’s easy and I’m frighteningly pleased with how easy it is for me to get someone to do what I want them to. That is so incredibly unhealthy and I’m 99.999% sure I never did that with Tyson. Progress…
I don’t want to use my children as excuses as to why I’m staying with a man I no longer love. I don’t want to burden them with that kind of guilt. If I did divorce with kids, I wouldn’t want them to feel that pain of loss or even thinking it might be their fault. I don’t want to raise my child as well as I could only to have it become a drug addict or something worse. I would feel like a failure. I don’t want a child just to keep a relationship with someone or to create someone who can never leave me. I am an unfit person to have that kind of obligation and moral responsibility to raise a child.
In the end, Megan is the only one out of my friends who still wants to be child free. Let’s see how long that lasts…
I thought about why I don’t want kids so much. I’m actually good with kids, especially babies since all you need to do is feed it and change it; it’s not like you really need to do much when they’re newborns since all they do is sleep, eat, and poop; very similar to having a dog except the baby won’t dig through the trash or want you to play fetch with it in the wee hours of dawn. As a matter of fact, I have changed every single one of my cousins’ diapers save one, and I’m pretty awesome at keeping it entertained, carrying it, and doing whatever you need to make a baby happy.
It’s just…I don’t want that kind of responsibility. I don’t know if I can be consistent enough to raise a child well. I’m afraid of being too strict like my parents, too indifferent with the kid, and just feeling trapped. People keep comparing children to animals and I want to be like, “No, a dog is NOT like a child, nor is a cat and you should never think that because you can keep a dog or cat, you should be able to have a kid.” I’m not even a consistent dog owner. I get lazy sometimes and I don’t walk Cooper for as long as he probably needs when the weather is shitty or when I’m just feeling lazy. I like to go out with friends, have some drinks, and come home to pass out and Cooper is just fine with that as long as I take him out 3 times a day. Sometimes he’s even fine with 2 times a day.
It’s not the responsibility thing that gets me or the fact that I am responsible for raising a living breathing thing that came out of me. It’s my parents. My mom has, from as long as I can remember, told me that my brother and I are the only reason why she stuck around with my dad. My mom placed all that guilty weight of misery on the shoulders of my brother and me. She loved us, sure, and still loves us, but I think she used us as an excuse to explain her unhappiness and explain why she stayed with my dad for as long as she did.
My dad’s not any better. He was never really in the picture of raising me unless it was for disciplinary measures. He attempted to teach me how to ride a bike (fail), swim (epic fail), tutor me with my homework (even more epic fail), and had the “talk” (awkward and like, 6 years too late). He expressed no interest in my personal life, didn’t know who I hung out with let alone let me hang out with anyone, and dictated every aspect of my life. It made me resent him and fear him. I know for a fact that I will use those tactics on my future children because I see myself doing those things with guys I end up dating when they’re those pussy-ish guys. I control them because it’s easy and I’m frighteningly pleased with how easy it is for me to get someone to do what I want them to. That is so incredibly unhealthy and I’m 99.999% sure I never did that with Tyson. Progress…
I don’t want to use my children as excuses as to why I’m staying with a man I no longer love. I don’t want to burden them with that kind of guilt. If I did divorce with kids, I wouldn’t want them to feel that pain of loss or even thinking it might be their fault. I don’t want to raise my child as well as I could only to have it become a drug addict or something worse. I would feel like a failure. I don’t want a child just to keep a relationship with someone or to create someone who can never leave me. I am an unfit person to have that kind of obligation and moral responsibility to raise a child.
In the end, Megan is the only one out of my friends who still wants to be child free. Let’s see how long that lasts…
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