Having Children: Uh, What Are You, Insane?

Speaking as a person who has done so, sure, I can say that having kids is easy - almost anyone can do it, whether or not they actually want to.

And for most it's among the preeminent events of their lives.

But here's some truth up front: parents talk all the time, amongst themselves or with people they trust not to make fun of them, about how it's much harder to be a parent than anyone thought to mention beforehand. This is essentially because most trusted child development experts and other sources of parental wisdom either don't know what they're talking about on that particular point, or are, for their own selfish reasons, simply lying about it.

If you are thinking about becoming a parent yourself, try to determine whether you have serious doubts about whether you'd be a good one. If you do, or if you plan to wonder this sometime in the future, DO NOT PROCREATE.

I can't emphasize this strongly enough. Some of those aforementioned parents or experts will wax nostalgic about the rewards of parenting. It's a dangerous game they're playing. They're either deluding themselves with possible criminal intent, or their little bundle of joy is still helpless and inarticulate, unable to voice its pent-up feelings of unreasoning ingratitude and rage - at you, for bringing it into this veil of tears.

Okay, yes, in all honesty, it's been hugely rewarding being a parent so far, but it has also been a chrome-plated bitch and a half - and if anyone should display the temerity of skipping over that fact, check their back pocket for the bridge they probably want to sell. Many of those hugely rewarding moments of parenthood are otherwise known as learning opportunities, my dear credulous reader, and they don't come cheap. Actually this understanding usually comes after the fact, usually way too late ("Hm, I probably shouldn't have called my child weird to his face" or "Uh, I guess that career choice I made is now causing actual harm to my neglected baby - sorry, my bad." ) So most of these marvelous learning opportunities go hand in hand with thoughts such as "Ugh, now I'm sorry I (said/did/screamed) that."

But it's REALLY HARD not to make mistakes, what with being human and all. It's a bit of a problem that at first some mistakes aren't obvious, just extremely serious. There's a deadly difference between the two.

And perhaps the worst part is: you know if you'd just paid attention, you'd have maybe picked up one of life's little signs or signals. When I'm being honest, I admit that when I'm presented with the opportunity to stay ignorant of whatever life is trying to tell me, truly, sometimes I bloody well opt to stay ignorant. When my son describes to me his delicate interactions with life and acquaintances at school or camp, for instance the kids torturing one another about nascent sexuality issues ("You're a fag!" "No, you are!") or simply inflicting suffering on unlucky lower-order creatures ("Jessie was burning ants today with the magnifying glass she stole from school"), I get the shivers myself. I want to stop hearing about it. I can't help it - I remember what it was like to be that age, not knowing the tiniest little bit about anything, practically, including why people (myself included) were so cruel, or why life was so confusing, or what the future was going to be like if things kept on the way they were going. My God, it sucked, it sucked with such withering inevitability - why should a person want to do that to a child they love, knowing with such certainty what it was like to go through it themselves?

If this describes you and your experience in any level of detail, you've got some hard thinking to do, my friend. Because if you are to have any chance of keeping your emotional baggage to yourself and not loading your wide-eyed offspring up with unhelpful accoutrements that don't belong to them, you're going to need an iron will, nerves of steel, balls of brass - you name the metal-oriented cliche. And even with the best of intentions you're going to fail at this task more than a little. Be honest, not to say realistic, for a moment - when was the last time you kept a New Year's Resolution and were a loving, nurturing person at the same time?

And sadly, those most in need of advice are the ones who least heed it. If you're reading this, it's because you either admitted at least to the random-chance possibility that I'm right, or you've got ulterior motives and it's unlikely I could talk you into much anyway. But for those of us who are getting flattened under the genetic thumb of Mother Nature, our brains probably aren't wired to act on any of this. We're just. Gonna. Fuck.

That's life, I guess, and I hope the species is able to avoid procreating itself back to the Stone Age or worse - little thanks to certain people, of course. At least those people can reassure themselves with the idea that though survival does tend to favor the smart, it doesn't always.

And some people aren't cut out to be parents and desperately want to know it - they read books, talk to people who have been there, get a puppy, etc. They figure it out eventually. I applaud those people and their lonely, beautiful lives - you, folks, have done your best to keep us out of a Malthusian charnel house, you've sacrificed your opportunity to pass on your genetic heritage and almost nobody has recognized you for it. Thank you (and I do hope you know what you're doing).

But I digress from my planned digression, which was to observe that of course, once we're all back in the Garden of Eden, we'll be at liberty to indulge in that divine "Go forth and multiply" proclamation again.

Or, failing that, we might just shortcut across the karmic trail and hose ourselves out gradually across a vast universe, boldly going to encounter whatever is out there. We are categorically, congenitally, axiomatically incapable of anticipating most of it, so we may need some luck. Simply to contemplate the notion is practically insane. Like some other notions previously mentioned.

And maybe, just maybe, what'll be called for is a hardy type of person who can't get bogged down in the details of whether it'll be too hard, or worth doing, or whether or not they'll be a good enough parent to their kids. They're just gonna pump out those little kneebiters and fret about the mess later.

Which reminds me - She's got it coming and there's no possible way she doesn't realize it, so the next time I meet Mother Nature I'm gonna punch her in the snoot.