But...I don't wanna be a part of the child's life

It's hot, I've been reading childfree blogs, it's humid, and I'm whiny...did I mention it's both hot AND humid? It is, and I hate it.

I mention I've been reading childfree blogs, because they've gotten me thinking about an invitation I received a child's birthday party. The invite, of course, includes the usual information about location, time and assures people that there will be snacks and beverages for children AND adults. Fine, I am down with that. The people hosting the party are both great cooks and generous hosts. I like them alot, they are cool people and actually work to be good parents. What puts me off is that the parents (in a hope of getting me to go?I haven't been to any of the other parties for this kid) added in the note with the invite, "We'd really like you to come because you are a part of so-and-so's life". Whaaaaa? I see this kid, like maybe 3 times a year, and we live in the same town! When I have seen him, it always starts out with screaming because I am essentially a stranger, then I try to make myself scarce to avoid prevoking any more horrible shrieking while the child observes me from a safe spot behind a parental unit and maybe in the last 10 minutes before one of us has to leave we'll play some peek-a-boo. I certianly do not consider myself a part of his life, and if he were more sentient, I doubt he'd count me as part of his life either. He is the kid I experienced vacation with last year, and you can find and read that post to how I felt about that particular experience. (I no longer have to worry about birth control as it caused my ovaries to climb right out my cooter and throw themselves into the fire) I may have babysat for them once, the kid was asleep in his room with the door closed and stayed that way until his parents came home, so for all I know I was just sitting in my friend's home, eating their food and using their electricity.

I am sure their stated desire to have me at the party because I am perceived to be a part of this kid's life is probably just an oddly worded attempt to try to make me feel welcome in a group of people who I have little in common with (they're actually my boyfriend's friends more than mine). It just puts me off because I don't want to be part of any child's life more than a casual, funny and occasionally drunk aquaintance, and it shows that either they don't know (or care?) how strongly I feel about that, or that they think I will one day have a child and be more "in the group" so to speak. I can sit in a house with a sleeping child and make sure that if were to start on fire the kid would get out, or if it were to wake up I can let it know that it's parents will be home soon. Beyond that, I want no more because I am a lush. Kids like drunks, however drunks do not do a good job of raising kids. I like being around kids when I'm drunk, because that is when I am at my most stupid and patient. I am pretty much at their level. However, if momma needs her medicine to be momma, maybe momma shouldn't become a momma in the first place, you dig?

Of course, I still don't want to go. I do not like groups of children of any age. This party is guaren-fucking-teed to have at least 5 toddlers, a couple infants and maybe a few surly 4-10 year olds, complete with screaming, tantrums, shrieking, mineMineMINE and maybe jumping on drunk ol' Feh and spilling her drink. I was an only child with a few very close friends, and school for me was a nightmarish "Lord of the Flies" hell of social engineering, cliquedom and fake cool that just cemented the idea that grouping children together is a bad thing. Basically since I got out of school, I've managed to only be in the position to be with a group of children once, and that was at Chuck E Cheeze, and it made me want saw at my jugular with a plastic knife for as many hours as it would take to end my life. And there will be parents there, and they will talk about...parenting, and children, and raising their children, and how wonderful/difficult it is, and the children, and being parents, and child rearing, and..........sorry, I nodded off for a moment. If I'm lucky, I will also get asked when I am having a child, because I should have one, becuase I'm getting married in almost a year (I hate the word fiancee, so he will be my boyfriend until he is my husband) and that's what happens when heterosexual people marry. Then I have to say that I will never have children and endure the "pity look" for being sterile (which I am not) or the "you'll change your mind" b.s. that gets fed to everyone who makes public their decision not to procreate. If I'm smart,however, I will get obviously (though not inappropriately) tipsy, and people will keep their damn mouths shut about my reproductive status because no one wants to put the idea of raising a child in the mind of a drunk. Oh, alcohol, is there anything you CAN'T do?

But, I will put on my funny face, party dress and go, because I do like the hosts and would never miss out on a chance to eat their amazing appetizers. I'll have a few girl drinks, let the kids jump on me, tell them about eye balls, boogers and farts, and show them how the best mud pies are made (hint: it involves getting our party clothes dirty!) and have their parents hate me because I am fun and never have to say NO. Then the dirty, sugar addled kids go back to their parents, and my dear betrothed will drive us home where we can take our pants off and relax in wonderful, glorious silence.

Postal views

Today I have reached four hundred and twenty profile views.
Time for a celebration...in my pants.

Oh yeah, and this lady is my new favorite blogger...right on, Right On! She may have gotten the idea from me, but she actualized it in a much more wonderful, hilarious and less angry way than I ever could have.

You can't make a baby?

Did you know...there are places in the world where you couldn't swing a dead baby, without hitting another baby who is on the verge of death? Huh. Imagine that. Places where there are unwanted children, and you a person wanting a child, really, Really, REALLY bad. Wow. Who would have thunk? So lets see, you put two and two together and you find out that yes indeed there are plenty of children in the world who would really benefit from a good home, and plenty of people in the world who would really, Really, REALLY want to be parents. Wow! That's great!

Oh wait, you want your OWN child. One who is made from your genetic material. One who pops out of your (or your wife's) vagina. One who is a special combination of your and your partner's genetic material. Why? Why is that exactly? Because you could never love anything as much as something that is part of you? And this is something you are willing to admit? If so, if you are truly willing to admit that, then I think you are a horrible person who should never have the responsibility to care for ANYTHING ever again. Firstly, how on earth did you ever manage to exchange 'sacred vows' with someone who isn't, say, your sibling? Does your partner know of your true feelings for people who are not in your genetic line? I am guessing, if you and your partner are engaging in the expense, heartbreak and trials of IVF, they do not know this particular fact. Marriage, to me, indicates a certian level of intimacy, trust and (egads!) love. An understanding that yes, indeed, one day you may have to care for that person in come capacity beyond a handshake and "howdy do!". Then there is the question of relations who may have married into your genetic line, how do they feel when you say "I can't love you in any way, we aren't related genetically." I am sure that good Ol' Uncle Larry will continue to be as friendly and jovial as ever when you drop that particular bomb at the 4th of July picnic.

Seriously, people who want to be parents do so because they want to raise A PERSON to be a contributing member of society. Good parents want to do this, and good parents do their darndest to do this. Good parents don't care if that person is of their genetic material, adopted from another country, or the neighbor kid. Good parents are good parents because they will take the time, effort and worry to make sure the persons in their care turn out to be able to live to their full potential.

Think for a moment, are you taking the road to parenthood because want a person to dress up, who will totally be your friend forever, to take care of you in your old age, because everyone else does, because you were from a big family, or simply because you are curious about what your genes look like when combined with another's? If you've answered yes to any of these questions, for the love of God, Apple Pie and America, DON'T HAVE CHILDREN. It's a fuck lot of work. It's miserable. Kodak moments are like 1% of life. You don't get to sleep for like 10 years. It's expensive. It's a lot of fucking work. It is physically and emotionally painful. Your life WILL change, and if you don't change it, you will get the stink eye when you take your child to ADULT venues. You will do a fucking lot of work, even if you slack off. It's messy and dirty and you won't get to have nice things for a long time. And what do you get from that? NOTHING. There is NO GUARANTEE that your child will LIKE YOU, will SHARE ANYTHING with you, or will take care of you in your old age. NONE!

Do you think I am maybe just a bitter old woman with bad childhood? Seriously, you couldn't be further from the truth. I was the only child, and only grandchild on BOTH sides of my family for most of my childhood. Every holiday, birthday and family visit was a Fehlabration! All the presents were for me, all the cake was for me, and all the attention was for me. YAY ME! I also know that if I wanted to do the work of parenting, I would be a parent. However, I am a lazy wimp. I have no fondness for either work or pain. Thusly, I have decided for my own good and for the good of society in general, that I would not go down the path of parenting...because it is a fucking lot of fucking work. Imagine that, reproductive organs, in perfect working order (I'll tell you about the thrills of gynocology another day) going to waste, simply because I decided that I would not want to do the work of parenting. Fancy that.