No Kidding: A Few Random Thoughts

Once, in an advanced grammar and composition class, my English teacher proclaimed that within five years, some of us would be married with children.

I was a senior in high school, college bound, as were all of the people in that room, I thought. It didn’t seem possible that he could be right.

But sure enough, a couple of months shy of her twenty-first birthday, a friend who had been sitting with me in that classroom gave birth to her first child. Cheryl was one of my best buddies during seriously formative years—ages 11 to 16 or so. She was brilliant. Immediately after high school, the government recruited her to study languages like Russian and Korean. I remember answering questions about her during her background check. Two years later, she was married and pregnant and then stopped working to raise her kids.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I saw that same English teacher at my tenth high-school reunion. By then he had a couple of kids himself. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you that two kids is twice as much work as one,” he said. “It’s exponential.”

***

Lately I’ve been reading Mali’s blog, No Kidding in NZ, which deals with both the pain of being unable to have children and the joys of a childfree existence. Within its electronic walls lies sensitivity training regarding choices and circumstances. Humans are a judgmental bunch, and all of us have our blind spots.

I am childfree by choice, and one lesson I’ve had to learn is not to jump to the conclusion that other childfree couples are that way by choice. On some level, I’d make assumptions that, like me, they didn’t want children, and I’d decide we had this delightful fact in common. Then I’d say something that would turn out to be highly inappropriate.

***

When she lived in LA, my sister joined the local chapter of No Kidding—a group made up of people with no children who wanted to socialize with other people who had no children. I was impressed that something like this existed. (Of course, there weren’t any chapters near me in Vermont, and I did not feel compelled to start one.) No matter. Sometimes I’m just happy that certain things are.

***

Now, a quiz: How many children should you have?

(a) None

(b) One

(c) Two

(d) Three

(e) Four or more

If you live in the United States and you answered (c) or (d), congratulations! You are correct! If you answered (a), you are obviously selfish. If you answered (b), you are practically a child abuser, not giving your only child a sibling. If you answered (e), really, what the hell are you thinking?

My friend Esther, mother of one son, pointed this out to me years ago. It feels utterly, socially true.

***

Mali’s last post deals with the alleged “selfishness” of childlessness, and I appreciate her addressing it. I’m always glad when parenthood is outed as a selfish act, because I can hardly think of anything more selfish—the need to pass along your genes, the need to create a family for yourself. What could be more about me than parenthood?

I’m not saying this selfishness is wrong. (We all want to create our own happiness.) But it is selfishness. Certainly, being a parent pushes a person into situations in which s/he needs to be selfless sometimes. But necessary selfless situations aren’t exclusively limited to parenthood.

Mali has also noted the use of the phrase, “As a mother, I . . .” or “As a parent, I . . . ,” as if parents had the monopoly on being compassionate human beings. Since she’s pointed it out, I’ve been hyperaware of it, and I do hear it a lot. What about “As a human, I . . . ?” Shouldn’t we all be compassionate? Why should nonparents be viewed as somehow unable to deeply care about fellow human beings, especially very young ones?

***

There are plenty of reasons I’m happy that I didn’t have children. One is that it’s probably the best thing that I’ve done for the environment. Overpopulation is clearly the root of many of our problems.

That said, the real reason I didn’t have children is that I just never wanted it enough. No matter what I think about overpopulation, I have no doubts that if I’d decided I wanted a child, I would have tried to have a child, the planet be damned. Like everyone else, I’m selfish that way.

***

Do I like children? It feels like a false question. They’re people. Some of them are wonderful, and some of them are assholes. Most people, including children, are great most of the time but every now and again behave very badly.

Here in Parts West, I’m surrounded by great kids. (I’m especially enamored of a 9-month-old and a 19-month-old at the moment, being almost physically unable to look away when either is in the room.) I like being around the kids in the ’hood. I like spending time with them.

Then I like bidding them adieu and heading back to my childfree home.