My mom gave me exactly nine months after I got married before she started asking me every time we talk whether I have any big news, which is her way of inquiring whether my wife is pregnant. And she will even enlist her sisters to ask on her behalf whenever I see them. I got married at a pretty normal age, and as most of my friends are around my age as well, they’ve all started having kids. Most of them are pretty cute too (sorry, not all of them are cute, but no names). Naturally, my wife and I talk about kids. And this is what I’ve concluded:
Just Not at that Point in Our Lives
We always make up these milestones to determine when we’re ready to have kids. I don’t think any of them are outlandish. We talk about visiting the Galapagos Islands. We talk about not replenishing our contraception stash. We talk about me writing a book. The only problems are that 1) she gets seasick just wading around a kiddy pool, 2) I usually buy in bulk, and 3) I’ve already been dilly-dallying on this book for the past three years, so I don’t think any of those are happening any time soon.
No Want Cray Cray Baby
I think my wife is a wonderful person with many fantastic traits, and I’ve got OK genes. I don’t think either of us would deny we each also have a little bit of crazy. It depends on the day and we would probably start The Great Debate to figure out who’s crazier. Making a kid and hoping for the best feels a little bit like playing roulette. And every time I’ve played roulette in my life, I’ve lost (F U Vegas!!).
Not that we’re very spontaneous as it is, it’s nice knowing we can get the hell out whenever we want.
I actually bought a book on child-rearing a few months ago, and it is titled “How Not to F*** Them Up” by Oliver James. I started reading it, got a little demoralized, and ended up skimming through the rest. My takeaway from that read is that there is no way for me not to f*** them up, which I think is the opposite effect Mr. James was hoping for.
I Can’t Keep Anything Alive
My wife and I went through a horticulture phase that lasted the better part of this year and turned our apartment into a borderline jungle (you can see it here at its infancy). It is the closest thing to a kid that we took care of since getting married (we did consider getting some fish). And what we learned is that she has a green thumb, and the only plants that I can keep alive are succulents (i.e., cacti). If kids are like succulents, then maybe…
So, sorry mom. Still no big news.