I have a confession to make.
I
Hate
Children.
Well, okay, ex-step-Father always told me
Hate is a strong word.
So I guess I’ll say I
Strongly dislike them,
The whole lot—all kinds.
And I want to know what goes on in the minds
Of all the people I ever meet
Who are, quite frankly, simply appalled
When I tell them I want no children
Not one, none at all.
I mean,
I simply don’t see what’s so wondrous and grand
Why a child is the cutest darn thing in the land
Let’s take a look at this motherhood gig:
So first you get pregnant
Quite probably the worst part
You get fat
Your boobs and feet swell
Morning sickness
Actually GIVING birth
And don’t even get me started on lactating.
Ew.
What am I, a cow?
So then you have a baby.
And they place it in your arms
And you’re supposed to think it’s cute
And maybe you actually do
And you hold it for a minute or two
Count all of its fingers and toes
But it doesn’t come with an instruction manual
No buttons I can press just to see how it works
What the hell do you do with it?
You take it home
It cries
It eats
It cries
It poops
Or maybe pukes
It cries
It sleeps (if you’re lucky)
It cries
It cries
It cries
And you tough it out
And then you have a toddler
Who draws on the walls
And must be potty-trained
And gets into EVERYTHING
No matter how many times you
“Baby-proof” your house.
And then you have a child
Who has to start school
And then needs help with their homework
And wants to bring cupcakes to class
And wants the new red lunchbox Johnny has
And just
Keeps
Growing.
And then you have a preteen
In middle school
Which obviously means
They know absolutely everything about everything
Why, they’re almost teenagers
This must mean they’re infallible
And when they find out they’re not,
It’s the biggest deal in the world.
And then, good Lord, they’re teenagers
Angst-ridden, beautifully tragic teenagers
Who want want want
And need need need
And drive and party and make you worry
And never ever live up to the ideas you had for them
And then blame you
And then they finally turn 18
And you feel like you’re done
But the college kid calls home and shows up for break
And not to mention tuition
And the adult still wants to come home for Thanksgiving
But won’t take you in when you get old
Parenting: you give up your whole life
And then continue to give, give, give
And for what?
To hear the word Mommmmmmmmm
For all eternity?
No thanks.
Make love, not babies:
This whole mother thing
It just isn’t the life for me.