Childless by choice

Yesterday at work I got into a conversation with the girl who cleans the first floor of this building. I always like it when she stops by. She’s really sweet and artistic. She has an 8 month old son and we talk about him a lot. Halloween is coming up, so she’s been debating what costume to get. And holy crap, is that a mine field of choices. And I’m not being facetious here.

I made the obvious suggestion.

Because this Dobby costume is a CLEAR win.
Because this Dobby costume is a CLEAR win.

So she’s been struggling with this choice. And I’m insisting to her that a Dobby costume is The Way To Go. And she’s saying she never read the books, but I’m confident that doesn’t matter because a tiny elf baby is cuter than a stupid teddy bear any day of the week.*

In conversation, it comes out that I used to nanny before I took this job. She asks me about the boy, and I tell her a little about him. And how I sort of miss being a playmate all day long but I like the regularity of my job.

Then comes The Question.

“Do you plan on having kids?”

I give my usual answer.

“Nope!”

And then comes the inevitable series of comments and questions and the long litany of reasons why parenthood is an ocean of flowers and mental orgasms and gorgeous photos of ponies running on rainbows in the summertime and I’m just resisting the urge to be a jerk to this woman because I actually do like her and I don’t think she’s doing what she’s doing to be malicious but the urge to yell at her during the whole exchange is driving me crazy.

*breathes after the longest run on sentence ever*

So, point is, I’m going to use this blog post to say the things that I can never say to the people who bug me about not having kids. Because telling coworkers to fuck right off is, generally speaking, not considered “good form.”

We’ll start with the most basic. Generally, the first question is:

Why not?

Because I don’t want to? Because none of your business?

But seriously, if you want an answer to that that’s direct and to the point, I’ll give you one. Or three. First, I am terrified of pregnancy. Like, the idea of having my body usurped by a little person makes me so anxious that I start sweating and, if I think about it too long, I get a stomach ache and need to lie down. So… not a great sign. Second, I’m selfish. Like, really. I want what I want when I want it. And as a person with no children, I can usually have those things. Quiet time? Done. A nap? Done. A trip to Asia? Some saving and, again, done. If you have a kid, you have to be all kinds of selfless. And I can do that in small amounts, but not on a 365 day a year basis for the next 18 years. And third, I really, really, really don’t deal well with gross stuff like poop or blood or illness or any of that. Again with the anxiety. It’s why I’m not a nurse. I dealt with poops and things as a nanny because I was paid to do it, but I gagged every time. And I pick up my dog’s poop with the same amount of gastrointestinal churning, but I put up with it because it’s part of the program and I can get fined if I don’t. So, basically, I’ll only deal with poops if there is some kind of financial benefit or in fear of some kind of financial penalty.

But you’d be a great mom!

Thanks for the compliment, random person that doesn’t know me. But I really don’t think you’re qualified to tell me whether or not I would be a good parent.

In fact, I think that, given that I actually worked as a nanny and was able to judge myself based on my personal Fed-Up-With-Kids-O-Meter™ at the end of any given day, I think that I am infinitely qualified to make a judgment on my own about what I want to do with my life and my ovaries. And even if that weren’t the case, I’m still a better judge of me than you are, having had a lifetime to get to know myself.

And being good with kids doesn’t necessarily mean that I want kids. I’m also good with snakes and have handled live cockroaches. I don’t want either of those things. Conversely, I very much want plants but have murdered every single one I have ever owned.

RIP Derek. We barely knew ye. Well, we knew ye for about two months, but forgot to feed ye.
RIP Derek. We barely knew ye. Well, we knew ye for about two months, but forgot to water ye.

You’ll change your mind at some point.

You know what, that may be so. But I don’t think you’re really qualified to tell me that, Mr. Always Covered in Unnamed Child Stains. Unless you got those stains whilst building a time machine with your child and have seen the future. Which, if you have, could you please give me some winning lottery numbers or ancient relics with which I could make my fortune?

But let’s be serious, if I do change my mind and it’s “too late” and my uterus expires, there’s this handy thing called adoption. Or surrogacy if I’m really attached to having a genetic clone.

And honestly, the thing I’m scared about the most when it comes to kids is that I’ll change my mind after the kid is born. And I know, all the parents in the world will try to tell me that you love them and want them no matter what once they’ve clawed their way remorselessly from your belly like a terrifying, bloodied alien, but here’s the thing, I’m worried that about half of them are lying out their asses. Because you have to figure that, for every parent that is just over the moon about their progeny, there has to be at least one that is more than a little bit unhappy with the whole parenting gig. But if they were to admit that, I’m pretty sure they would be tarred and feathered by the local PTA in some kind of insane culling ritual.

Who will take care of you when you’re old?

There are so many things wrong with that question. Let’s start with the first one. Who the fuck has kids just so they can be cared for in their old age? I mean, really? How selfish is that? And leaving that aside, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be batshit insane when I’m super duper old and need care, in which case my kids probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway and would put me into a little old person storage unit to sit there until I die from boredom and despair.

You don’t know what love is until you have a child.

Really? I don’t know what love is? You know what, that statement is so presumptuous and nasty that there’s no real way to answer that one other than to tell you to fuck right off. So… you know… fuck right off.

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Don’t your parents want grandchildren?

Yes, I have actually had people ask me this on behalf of my parents. Because that’s not creepy at all. Well here’s an answer, nosy guy: Maybe? Probably? But it’s not their choice whether or not I bring life in the world. And here’s a weird story: I have zero intention to give up on my major goals in life (travel, gaming, hobbies, and having nice things) so that they can snuggle a new life once a week. I love my parents very much, but I refuse to give in to the social pressure to have children so that my parents get to experience grandparent-hood.

Hey, let’s be honest, I would be a stellar parent. And if I, somehow, were saddled with a child accidentally (thank all the holy things that ever existed for the lack of accidental pregnancies inherent in the lesbian relationship), I would parent that kid so hard. I would get an honorary advanced degree in parenting. And I would love them more than anything on earth and I would kill and eat anything that tried to hurt them. Because that is how parents should be.

But I don’t particularly want to do it. And if I don’t really want to do something, doing it because of my inherent ability to incubate a life or because of some crippling fear of loneliness in my old age seems like a really terrible idea that is bound to end in tears for many – if not all – of those involved. And, given that I associate way too deeply with the lady on the right in this particular Oatmeal comic:

...eew.
…eew.

… maybe we should both just agree that having kids isn’t for me and move on?


*As I was writing this, the girl from my office walked in, we chatted, and I suggested the best possible mother and baby Halloween costume. And she is going to do it. We even discussed the best ways to draw a mustache on her son.

I am unreasonably excited about seeing photos of her with her son after Halloween.
I am unreasonably excited about seeing photos of her with her son after Halloween.

Go home, Leviticus. You’re drunk.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”

Martin Luther King said that. It’s been getting a lot of play lately on TV and in articles and such. And it is definitely true. Because it has been a long road getting to a place where 19 states in this country acknowledge non-heterosexual marriage.

And it feels good. I have talked with a lot of my LGBTQ-etc friends in the last two days and we are universally thrilled to see this come to our home state. Some of us are even shocked that it made it this far, against so much opposition.

All in all, I’m thrilled. I’m nowhere near the place in my relationship where we’re picking out flower arrangements, but it’s good to know that, when I get there, I will be able to do everything a heterosexual couple does without any pushback from my state. Without special paperwork and legal documents and bureaucratic fidgy widgyness. It feels really, really good.

What’s interesting, too, is that I just read this article on Think Progress about how Rick Santorum really couldn’t be bothered to say anything about the rolling tide of same sex marriage across the country that culminated here in PA on Tuesday. It’s something I’ve long been aware of, but if the Republican party wants to, like, keep their jobs, they basically need to let go of things like gay marriage. Because a recent Gallup poll puts support for marriage equality at 55%.

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See those numbers, kids? The dark green line represents the right side of history.

 

So all those things are good. And seeing progress is good. And all good things are good.

Except.

A bunch of people have taken this as an opportunity to spill their homophobia out into the internet in a seemingly neverending stream.

Morgan Freeman didn't actually say this, but it's still as true as if he did.
Morgan Freeman didn’t actually say this, but it’s still as true as if he did.

What’s always bugged me about homophobia – aside from the obvious message above – has been how obviously hypocritical all of these people are. They cherry pick the things they want to believe and leave behind the things that would be super hard to do.

Leviticus is that book of the Bible that famously decries men lying with men. “You shall not lie with a man as with a woman,” the book says, “for that is an abomination.” (Lev 18:22)

Leviticus takes all of this stuff very seriously, by the way. If you take any of these laws and break them, the whole chapter is full of recommendations for punishment. Phrases like “and they shall be put to death” or “they shall be stoned by the people” abound. But, moreover, if I see you committing some of these crimes and I don’t stone you, I’m going to hell with you. That’s some heavy judgment “I AM” is handing down, right there. And you’re kinda already fucked if you live in a country that frowns on stoning. Like the U.S.

But anyway, aside from the compulsory stoning of one’s neighbors, if you want to tow the party line about homosexuality as laid down in Leviticus, that’s fine. But if you believe that, you have to believe all that other stuff that goes along with it. And, believe me, there are some gems up in that book. Here’s some of my favorites!

Let’s start at the beginning!

Do you like bacon? Well sucks to be you. Lev 3:17 forbids the eating of fat. So no bacon for you guys! Keep that in mind the next time you’re at the diner.

Lev 5:2 forbids the touching of an unclean animal. Do you have a cat? A dog? Have you patted a dog on the street? Touched a horse’s nose? Frolicked in a field with the myriad fauna that abound there, a-la Cinderella? Cause you are goin’ to hell if you have.

Lev 5:4 forbids “thoughtlessly taking an oath” for either good or bad. Have you ever said “I swear” before anything? Then you realized that swearing that the barista at the coffee shop will pay with her last breath the next time she makes you a latte three times because she’s no good at lattes and can’t get the foam right waaaaaaaaasn’t such a good idea? Too bad. Sin committed. Enjoy eternal damnation.

Lev 10:6 forbids the showing of grief by letting your hair become unkempt or tearing your clothes. The second thing should be pretty easy, but if your dad dies you had better keep that sick do going, or else what happens? You guessed it! Hellfire and damnation.

Lev 10:9 states that you cannot have a fermented beverage whenever you go into the “tent of meeting.” Now, properly this means whenever you go to church. Catholics, I’m looking at you. Of course, for most of us, “tent of meeting” translates to “bar,” which is also kind of a problem…

Lev 11:4-7 says that you cannot eat any animal that doesn’t both chew cud and have a divided hoof. That eliminates all KINDS of yummy foods. No seafood, for sure, cause those tasty bastards don’t even have feet.

Delicious. And, now, a thing of the past.
Delicious. And, now, a thing of the past.

You also can’t touch their dead bodies, according to Lev 11:8, which is really only a problem if you, like me, are morbidly fascinated with poking dead jellyfish or feeling up taxidermied anything. But if you play rugby or football, does the term pigskin ring a bell?

Basically, if you like taxidermy at all or are interested in moving roadkill from in front of your car or taking your kid’s dead lizard out to the trash, you are totally ruined by Lev 11:13-22 and Lev 11:29. Truly, the road to damnation is paved with dead animals.

Did you just kill that spider who has been stalking your bathroom? Better not pick it up. Ooh, you killed it with your hands? Truly, you are a champion hunter. Also, according to Lev 11:41-42, you are going to hell.

A very real fear for devout Leviticus followers...
A very real fear for devout Leviticus followers…

Remember when that bouncing ball of joy came into your life? How excited you were to have him or her baptized and show off your new squalling offspring to the members of your congregation? Well I hope you waited before you went, Lev 12:4-5 states the standard waiting period for a girl is 66 days, with 33 days being the standard wait for a boy. Better get all your sins handled before the little bastard crawls outta ya, because you have to be really good for the one or two months after it’s born.

Do you have your “red wings?” Because Lev 18:19 says you’re going to hell if you do.

Have you ever in your life purchased a crucifix or a little statue of St. Francis? Because idols are bad, says Lev 19:4.

You may think you're being a good Catholic, but this here is a one way ticket to Hell.
You may think you’re being a good Catholic, but this here is a one way ticket to Hell.

Remember all those little white lies? About Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and how many people you’ve really slept with? Well, the guy who wrote Lev 19:11 is watching you. And knows which circle of hell you’re going to end up spending eternity in.

Remember that swearing thing before? Well, have you ever said “I swear to God if you little bastards don’t get your shoes on and get in the car I will smack you so hard!” When they didn’t, did you smack them? Well, if you’re a good parent that doesn’t hit their kids, you just swore falsely on God’s name. And Lev 19:12 says that’s another no-no.

Here’s good news for everyone that hates waiting two weeks for a paycheck! Holding the wages of an employee overnight is a damnable sin! Don’t believe me, check out Lev 19:13. Are you an employer? You might want to go see a priest. Like, every day.

Pretty sure everyone in government is in violation of perverting justice by showing partiality to either the poor or the rich. Lev 19:15 takes a dim view of that kind of thing.

Remember that guy who cut you off two weeks ago? Or your ex wife? Still hate either of those people? Want revenge? Lev 19:18 specifically warns against seeking revenge or bearing grudges. Naughty, naughty!

To be fair, if she had given me that family of dead-eyed corn children, I'd cross her ass out, too.
To be fair, if she had given him that family of dead-eyed children of the corn, God would probably cross her ass out, too.

Turns out, God is, like, super against intermixing things. Lev 19:19 warns against three things:

  1. Cross-breeding animals. So if you love your purebread whateverthefuck dog, beware.
  2. Mixing fabric in clothing. Yea. Try to live in the modern world without mixing cotton and polyester. I dare you.
  3. Planting different seeds in the same field. Do window boxes count as “fields?” Because having a window box with just one kind of flower could be really, really boring.

This one really must stress out the true Bible adherents. Lev 19:23 forbids you from eating fruit from any tree that has been planted for less than four years. I can just see them, pulling out their hair out in the aisles of the Super Walmart.

Devout Walmart Shopper: Excuse me, how old was the tree these apples grew on?
Walmart Employee: … I don’t know.
Devout Walmart Shopper: Well, considering that my eternal souls’ well being is on the line, could you find out? I’m not interested in going to whatever circle of hell is reserved for eating the fruit of immature trees.
Walmart Employee: Right… I’ll get right on that. *goes to stock in another area*

Hey, are you a friend to facial hair in any way? Well if you are, you had better keep it long and sloppy, my friend, because Lev 19:27 specifically forbids trimming your beard. Also, in an act of serious micromanagement, the same verse prohibits you from cutting the sides of your hair.

All of those people with cross tattoos? Yea, I don’t care how much you love The Lord Your God, according to Lev 19:28, he hates tattoos.

Particularly, I would think, if you put it there...
Particularly, I would think, if you put it there…

Lev 19:32 says you had better give up that seat on the bus to the little old lady with her walker. No, we don’t care how much your feet hurt. Is your podiatric discomfort truly the reason you want to spend eternity rubbing shoulders with Beelzebub?

This is one of my favorites, because there are so many right wingers who are guilty of it all the time. Lev 19:33-34 states that “The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born.” So much for immigration law, folks! The world is just one big country, according to Leviticus. 

Have you ever muttered a swear at your parents under your breath? Cursing your mother and father is specifically addressed in Lev 20:9.

We all remember that rule about not working on the Sabbath? That’s Lev 23:3. That must be rough for Christians who work in restaurants. The Sabbath has some good money to be made. Too bad.

Blasphemy is another no-no, which I’m sure is no news to you. This is one of the sins that is outlined as specifically being punishable by stoning by Lev 24:14. I wonder if it’s blasphemy if you only take the Lord’s name in vain during sex? I would hope he would take that as a compliment.

Remember that “eye for an eye” rule? That’s Lev 24:17-22. I wonder how nitpicky that rule really is… like, if I give you a papercut, do you do it back?

This sort of insult would definitely have to be answered.
This sort of insult would definitely have to be answered.

And last, but certainly not least, did you know that you are not allowed to permanently sell off your land? Yea. Lev 25:23. The reasoning? Because all land belongs to God and you can’t sell his shit without permission. Which I guess makes sense. I would get seriously bent out of shape if someone sold my stuff when I wasn’t looking.

All in all, Leviticus as a book makes me think that we are all looking forward to this when we die:

Although, in fairness, I would welcome a Hell that had Rowan Atkinson playing the Devil.