That was the line that killed me on the Huffpost “31 things they don’t tell you about becoming a parent.” My sister is having a child; I saw the link on her FB page. I’m 35, I don’t have kids. I don’t have a boyfriend, and there’s a decent chance I will never have kids. I’m ok with that. I’m ambivalent about having them, due to my enjoyment of sleeping in and reading without being disturbed. But damn, that hurts! I’ve lost friends, good people, to infants. It’s like, “See you in 16-18 years! Please don’t hesitate to reestablish contact when you have the time and energy to not be in parent mode 24/7!”
Now I know this is ironic, following on the heels my post about the joys of having little responsibility as an expat English teacher, but really, I didn’t know you had to have children to be an adult. And I don’t want to be blamed for the fade out. I know parents don’t want to go out and that it’s a hassle for them. I understand that they’re tired, that their place is a mess because their child(ren) is/are messing it up and they’re too tired to clean it, so I don’t get invited over. If we stopped being friends, it’s not because you couldn’t join me on my 18-hour drinking sprees. It really hurts watching you disappear into baby land. It’s like watching a loved one join a cult. They cut off ties with everyone who isn’t in the cult with them. For we childless people, it sucks to lose you. We miss you. We reminisce over the good old days when you still had the mental energy to read and stay abreast of current affairs.
I take umbrage at this notion that parents become adults. You do become more responsible; I’ll give you that. But more adult? I don’t know. Time I’m spending reading the New York Times is time you’re spending trying to airplane food into your child’s mouth. You’re the one who knows all about cartoons and children’s entertainment, not me. Let’s not be so self-righteous in the doling out of adult status.
Truth be told, some of my favorite people are parents. I love these people. They’re good parents, but they retain an interest in life beyond their child. I’m an awesome friend for these people because I like to go home early, and I’m a teacher, so both my ability to fake enthusiasm on children’s behalf and my threshold for annoyance are high. I have parent friends who find me a safe person to be adult with; they can confide in me how frustrating they find being a parent on occasion, and know I won’t judge them. They can get back in touch with their adult self by talking about racy topics like sex, and politics, and metaphysics, and drugs, and doings of mutual acquaintances. I love these moms and dads, they seem like real people to me, not Stepford parents laying down their lives to tend to their hot-house flowers. And their kids are well-cared-for too. I don’t know yet, but I have a hunch these sanely selfish parents may be doing their kids a favor. Their kids grow up loved and understand that they are valuable people, but they also learn that they are not the MOST important beings on earth. From the beginning, their parents demonstrated love, but also that they are humans too, not care-taking machines. I wonder if the children of these parents won’t be more successful in romantic relationships; they won’t feel entitled to all of their partner’s time, attention, and energy. Their parents loved them and yet were separate people– what could be a healthier example of interpersonal relationships than that?
My mom went back to grad school when I was 5. Because of this, there were times where she couldn’t make a Brownie Jamboree or bake 3 dozen cupcakes for the class party. I don’t remember minding this a ton because I found being a kid to be a pain in the ass and kind of didn’t blame my mother for having better things to do. Here’s what I got instead– a really well-educated mother who talked to my sister and I about all manner of cultural phenomena at the dinner table. Instead of stooping overly much to our level, she gently led my sister and I up to hers. Her sophistication conferred more benefits upon my sister and I than a million cupcakes. She gave us her attention; we felt valued and loved, but she didn’t join us in child land; she kept her passport to adult-land up-to-date. And we are still close, because we can relate to one another as adults.
I have hope my sister won’t be completely hijacked into baby land. First of all, she isn’t that patient. Secondly, she’s a journalist and I just can’t see her going full-on Dora the Explorer (is that show still on? Do kids watch it?). Her giving birth probably won’t change much as most of her friends are parents so she’s already pretty deep in baby territory as it is. Fortunately, her friends are also journalists, so somebody somewhere will be reading something interesting and non-baby related, so I cling to hope.
I guess my last thought on this topic is– don’t write shit like that, woman whose name I don’t know whose article was on the Huffpo! There’s already enough weirdness about adults having kids vs. adults not having kids. Both sides live in fear of the scorn and disapproval of the other. I don’t think less of you for having food on your shirt and being tired all the time. Don’t cast aspersions onto me just because I have free time and can sleep in on the weekend. We each chose our own path. There are pay-offs and trade-offs to both. Just know that if I don’t hear from you after you have kids, yes, I will understand, and yes, my feelings will be hurt, and yes, we both get to be adults.
Yet another expat's blog about Taiwan 