mister monkey is talking babies again. he seems to think that we are such a genetic goldmine that we should do our duty to the world and procreate. mind you, he doesn't say it with much enthusiasm...more of a theoretical statement.
i had a patient last week who, at 37, had three teenage kids. i could do that. what i really don't want to do is have the teenagers at 50, but there seems no way around that particular bit of arithmetic.
can we not do like other animals and let our young do their thing a couple of years after birth? why the big hoopla? why the full 18 years? isn't it exhausting?
a good friend is now in the midst of dealing with his teenagers, while several bloggers whom i read regularly, are in the midst of toddler trauma. neither seems particularly palatable, not when you must, as a parent, have your kid's best interest at heart. i particularly find the toddler trauma troubling ("troubling toddler trauma: tonight on FOX news!") because why would you not enforce your will when you are so much bigger than they are? is it because their little will is so much bigger than your own? and that is scary.
i have seen enough of childrearing in north america to find it largely neauseating. all this catering to little precious, teaching them that they are the centre of the universe, which produces cocky backward baseball cap wearing assholes and smug trixies with fake tans. i think north america is overflowing with a sense of entitlement and i think that it would do it good to maybe live for a while in a place where there are bullet holes in the buildings, where people still remember the war, where hunger is more than some nebulous concept used to force you to eat unpalatable things like broccoli or spinach.
and while it would be all nice to think that we would certainly buck the trend (god knows, we'd try), how do you raise a kid immune to the cocaine of froot loops, dinosaur shaped fake food and the ubiquitous barbie? how do you raise your kid in a decent normal way without your neighbours calling in social services because you don't have a TV, SUV or cable, because you don't stop your conversation in midflow as little precious has something to communicate right this very second, because you let your kids run around naked in the yard on a hot day (and jesus murphy, ain't that PORNOGRAPHY?!?!?)?
okay, okay, i am going off the deep end right now, because just last weekend i witnessed our friends' naked little ones running around the yard and no police was called. these friends are doing a fine job raising their kids in a way that is based on that uncommon element: common sense.
still, even with that, you have to contend with the contest of wills with a 2 year old over what they will or will not eat, and i am just not up to that because, baby, it's my way or the highway. or so i say now.
and all of this bellyaching, all of this blah blah blah, all of it comes down to one very simple truth which is that i am not interested in having children.
if i change my mind, you'll be the first to know, but until then, i want to continue my lazy wine-soaked lifestyle.