metaphortunate son (
metaphortunate) wrote2013-06-26 08:31 pm
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mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be mamas
Don't have kids, guys.
Seriously. Just don't do it. Have long lazy afternoons puttering around. Have inventive, acrobatic, energetic sex that you're not too tired for and don't have to get finished before the baby wakes up. Have good relationships where you can pay attention to each other. Have relaxed lazy evenings in bars with friends and interesting cocktails. Have a career you can put your heart and soul into. Have hobbies. Have political interests that you can do work on. Have good friends, that you can stay close to. Have conversations that don't get interrupted four times a minute. Have parties. Go to parties and don't leave at 7. Go to parties that don't cost $60 for the babysitter. Go on planes and don't spend fifteen hours with someone crying and trying to climb up you by hanging on to your nipples. Don't spend your life wiping poop. Don't spend your life wiping noses. Don't spend your life wiping someone else endlessly. For the love of god, don't put yourself through pregnancy. Don't fill your house with plastic crap. Don't fill your life with worry about whether the baby's doing all right and getting everything it needs. Don't shift yourself down to about #12 on your own list of priorities. Don't get yourself stuck in a situation good and hard. Don't spend all your time having to tell someone "no" literally every 2 minutes, all day, every day. Don't spend all your time fighting with someone about every single thing that has to get done in a day, from going up stairs to eating dinner. Don't do it. I'm telling you: don't have kids. Let other people send you pictures of their kids and feel a bit wistful about it, before you move on to your latest book or TV show or project or pet or trip or job or nap. Have a life. Have love. Have yourself.
The Junebug continues to be wonderful and adorable. He continues to be the easiest baby ever. I don't regret having him. But I can sort of tell that I can't. It's not biologically possible right now, apparently. Which I'm sure is for the best. But if you haven't gotten yourself into this yet? Run. Run now. Run away from anything that might get you into this and never look back.
Seriously. Just don't do it. Have long lazy afternoons puttering around. Have inventive, acrobatic, energetic sex that you're not too tired for and don't have to get finished before the baby wakes up. Have good relationships where you can pay attention to each other. Have relaxed lazy evenings in bars with friends and interesting cocktails. Have a career you can put your heart and soul into. Have hobbies. Have political interests that you can do work on. Have good friends, that you can stay close to. Have conversations that don't get interrupted four times a minute. Have parties. Go to parties and don't leave at 7. Go to parties that don't cost $60 for the babysitter. Go on planes and don't spend fifteen hours with someone crying and trying to climb up you by hanging on to your nipples. Don't spend your life wiping poop. Don't spend your life wiping noses. Don't spend your life wiping someone else endlessly. For the love of god, don't put yourself through pregnancy. Don't fill your house with plastic crap. Don't fill your life with worry about whether the baby's doing all right and getting everything it needs. Don't shift yourself down to about #12 on your own list of priorities. Don't get yourself stuck in a situation good and hard. Don't spend all your time having to tell someone "no" literally every 2 minutes, all day, every day. Don't spend all your time fighting with someone about every single thing that has to get done in a day, from going up stairs to eating dinner. Don't do it. I'm telling you: don't have kids. Let other people send you pictures of their kids and feel a bit wistful about it, before you move on to your latest book or TV show or project or pet or trip or job or nap. Have a life. Have love. Have yourself.
The Junebug continues to be wonderful and adorable. He continues to be the easiest baby ever. I don't regret having him. But I can sort of tell that I can't. It's not biologically possible right now, apparently. Which I'm sure is for the best. But if you haven't gotten yourself into this yet? Run. Run now. Run away from anything that might get you into this and never look back.

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But it's definitely making me stronger. Just like weightlifting: I'm getting stronger by doing hard and painful things, repeatedly, to the limit of my current ability, usually when I'd rather be doing something easy or eating cake. I like the strength. It is a positive transformation. But the process of acquiring it is brutal.
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Seriously, this. This is what I'm learning: becoming a parent is *always* a radical transformation... and if you wait until you have a happy marriage and a fulfilling career and an enjoyable social life and all those great things... THEY GET TRANSFORMED. They are not the same! And that's a real loss that weighs against all the other things that you gain.
If you become a parent when your life is less formed, less fulfilled, more burdened with troubles... yeah, there's a real possibility that you're going to crash and burn. But it's also possible that this wild infusion of beauty and power and meaning is going to fuel you to make changes and reach goals that you weren't even dreaming of before. We see that a lot. We're not just there to prevent the crashing-and-burning, we're there to facilitate and celebrate the transformation.
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