tick tock…

At the risk of offending a few people, I have a confession. I don’t like other people’s kids. This isn’t a new development. Nor is it subject to change when I get “older” as I was once promised. Today I am older and I am still unimpressed. This isn’t to say I don’t want children of my own. Of course I do. It’s just your kids I’m not a fan of. Oh yeah- and I’m not in a hurry.

My disdain for other people’s rugrats lovely children can be traced back to preschool. On my first day of school, at the tender age of four years old, my mother came to pick me up after my half day only to find me huddled in a corner covering my ears.  I had in my hand the sugar cookies she had wrapped in saran wrap for me and was holding them so tightly against my head that they were crushed.  She inquired, “What happened?!?” as a frantic young mother would ask to find their child in such a disturbed state. My answer was simple. “Mommy- I don’t like being around little kids. They are bad and too loud!”

And so began my journey on the frustration of being around the bad@ss offspring of anyone but myself (who technically doesn’t have any kids, so I guess that includes all kids until further notice). When I was a teenager, the church was always looking for bright, young, responsible role models such as me to assist with babysitting and rearing the kids during Sunday school. I’ll never forget when one of the trustees asked the 13 year old version of me to ‘watch’ her child during church for twenty dollars. I laughed in her face. At the risk of getting my tale beaten right there on the pulpit by my extremely strict father, I told her in no uncertain terms “I don’t babysit. Ever. I do not like kids. You don’t want me to watch your child. Trust me.”

As I matured got older, people assured me that this was simply a phase.  I would grow to like them eventually. When I was in my early twenties my lack of baby love was attributed to my ‘youth’ and ‘unsettledness’. I will admit that the big 3-0 has caused me to admit that some kids are kind of cute. Not much else has changed.

So earlier this week, I had a flight to Dallas. One of my favorite aspects of modern day flying is the seat selector option. I’m a window seat girl- that way nobody wakes me up on their way to the bathroom, but I digress. I picked my seat close to the front and by the window to foster good sleep and a speedy exit during deplaning. Imagine the displeasure I felt when my seat buddy arrived and she was a young women with five kids arranged strategically around us. But the coup de grâce? The newborn’s seat was right on mommy’s lap.

Now here’s the unfortunate part. I’m not sure if it was my facial expression or my body language, but within three minutes of sitting down, the young woman in question tapped me on the shoulder and informed me that I need not worry, she was going to try to find an empty seat so as not to inconvenience me. She was actually very apologetic. I almost felt badly but I was so happy to get my future sleep back that my black heart remained stone and all was well with the world.

And so reader’s of UBF- here is my dilemma. As much as I want children of my own kind of but not really I don’t know for sure, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for the people I know that actually have them. Much of that pity is due to the fact that I don’t like their kids. But I also couldn’t help but notice a) how much my previously fabulous friends had to let themselves go and b) how boring taxing family life appears. Now my UBF readers that have children- please do not get offended. Not only do I see the shallowness in this logic, but I too find it disturbing. Still…those thoughts have entered my brain (obviously). I will honestly admit that the biological clock portion of me does want kids. The real me, however, doesn’t even like them very much. It’s an interesting juxtaposition. On the rare occasion that I see a cute child, I feel a mix of yearning and disgust.  I know as a woman I am ‘supposed to’ feel warm and fuzzy at the prospect of offspring. Honestly? The only thing I keep hoping is that they don’t turn out like all the other kids that I am not too fond of. The only conclusion that I can come to is- it’s not that time yet. Luckily, I can always rely on my soon to be good friends at Cryobank just in case I still feel this way five years from now.  Or I can adopt from Malawi.

All babies aren’t cute by the way. It’s just that you can’t tell people that.




About usbottlesandfriends
The tales of unpredictable truths from those guys your mom warned you about.

3 Responses to tick tock…

  1. Monique says:

    You are not alone. For the most part, I find that SOME babies are adorable, but in no way does it make me want to have one. I know my clock is ticking, but I’m going to keep on pressing that snooze button until that warm & fuzzy feeling consumes me every minute of every day. Those 5 minutes of me experiencing that feeling when seeing a cute little baby don’t do it for me.
    I am still enjoying my selfish phase.

  2. Pingback: why we’re not married… « Us, Bottles, and Friends

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