To kid or not to kid

Now that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's are finally past, I have time to reflect on an interesting phenomenon that occurs all year, but hits most heavily around the holidays.

People ask this question:

"So, when are you going to have kids?"

It amazes me that anyone would ask anyone this question, for a variety of reasons.

First of all, this is an intensely personal question. Think about what you're really asking. "So, any plans to move from recreational sex to reproductive coitus? Any plans for Mr. Schnozz's sperm to fraternize with your eggs? Have you considered the life-changing choice of producing offspring lately? Any plans to manufacture a brand-new human soon, then take care of it for a sizable chunk of your life? Because, you know ... I was just wondering."

Mind you, I don't want to be one of those easily offended people whom everyone has to tiptoe around. That is not my intent at all. If, during this holiday season, you did make the social mistake of asking me when I planned to have kids, know that I undoubtedly immediately forgave you, as it is a social mistake almost everyone makes. I am not mad at you, I promise. I probably rolled my eyes at you to Mr. Schnozz behind your back, but come on, you can handle that, can't you? (If you can't, maybe you should stop asking people overly personal questions. Just a thought.)

To help you understand the difference between a personal question and a casual question, I have made a short list of each, for reference purposes.

APPROPRIATE CASUAL QUESTIONS
1. "So, how did that green paint turn out? Were you happy with it? I know you were worried it wouldn't match the chairs."
2. "Have you found any great shopping in St. Louis?"
3. "I love this song! Do you like country music?"
4. "Is Mr. Schnozz enjoying his short commute these days?"
5. "Did you guys do anything fun for New Year's?"

PERSONAL QUESTIONS
1. "I love being married. Speaking of marriage, how often do you and your husband have sex?"
2. "You look great! Say, are those implants?"
3. "I love Jesus. You do too, right? RIGHT?"
4. "So, when are you two going to get married?"*
5. "Wow, this theater is nice! How much did it cost?"**

I'm hoping the difference is clearer for you now. Keep in mind that the casual questions are questions that people I meet on the street could ask. And the personal questions are questions I would only accept from the closest of friends. (And even then, I reserve the right to refuse to answer, but I wouldn't be offended that they asked, seeing as we're close friends and all.) So it's a spectrum with lots of gray areas. I'm not saying NO ONE can ever ask about my religious beliefs or how much I spent on something. But from most people, I consider those questions to be over the line.

So, back to the kids question. Another reason I find this question dumbfounding is that many couples suffer from infertility. How painful must it be for them when you push them to have children, when having children is something they desperately want for themselves but are struggling to achieve? Do not assume you know a couple's fertility situation. Just because someone doesn't have kids doesn't mean they don't want them. And just because they can't have kids, that doesn't mean they're going to call you and say, "Bad news. We're infertile." Many infertile couples choose to suffer in silence for the sake of their privacy. (After all, if they announce their infertility, this will undoubtedly lead to lots of rude questions about uteruses or whose fault it is or if they've tried having sex standing on their heads or whatever, so I don't blame infertile couples for keeping quiet about it.)

Or maybe they aren't having sex at all and haven't for years. Maybe they're both gay. What do you even know about the situation, when you think about it? It's a crazy world, man. Who knows what they're doing. Your fifty-year-old neighbors could be crossdressing bondage-lovers who frequent S&M clubs. So try not to assume.

There is an enormous level of social pressure to have children. There are also a lot of horrible parents out there. I do not consider these two facts to be unrelated. I'm sure many people have kids for the same reason they got married: because it is simply What People Do. Not because they like kids, or because they're mature enough to spend Saturday night cleaning up baby vomit, but because it was what was encouraged and expected of them. (Though it does annoy me that society functions in this way, I am not exonerating these parents of the responsibility of their own decisions. They should have had the strength to think for themselves.)

Well, it's just not gonna work for me that way, guys. Sorry. No babies are forthcoming at this time. I'm not saying I don't feel a tug on my instincts when I see a cute baby or a little baby dress or something. But I've learned something from watching friends and family suffer through parenthood: Nature does not give a crap about me. My instincts do not give a crap about me. Nature just wants me to reproduce. As far as Nature is concerned, once I've popped out a few kids, I can then put a bullet in my head for all Nature cares, because my job as a human being is done.

Nature doesn't say, "Gee, do you think you can handle this responsibility? Will you be a good parent? Are you at risk for postpartum depression?" No. Nature says, "Have you made more humans yet? No? Why not? Hurry it up! Look over there! Cute baby! Wow! You should make one. Don't ask me why, I don't know why, don't think too hard about it, stop questioning me, just do it do it do it do it ..."

Does this mean I will never be a parent? Not at all. There's a lot of joy in kids. I love my three-year-old nephew. He cracks me up to no end. He is one of my favorite people in the world. When I watch the way he thinks and plays, I do remember a lot about life that I'd forgotten. On the flip side is his adulthood. Eventually, he will need his independence and friends his own age and all that, and we will drift apart. Can I handle that? Will I be able to be happy for him, or will I selfishly demand his attention whether it makes him happy or not? Am I strong enough to grant my own children their rights to independent happiness? These are things I need to discover about myself before I take on the responsibility of a child.

I often wonder if all the parents of five-year-olds who glowingly recommend parenting will feel the same way when that five-year-old grows up, marries a total bitch, and moves across the country. How many adults have healthy, happy relationships with their parents? Talk to a young mother about her kids and watch her light up about what a sweet little boy she has. Talk to a woman in a nursing home about her kids and you might hear about how her worthless son never calls her anymore. Is the good worth the potential bad? Maybe the answer is different for everyone.

We live in a universe of tradeoffs. Everything is a tradeoff. If you think there's a way to have it all, you are, in my respectful opinion, woefully delusional. Is parenting worth the cost to my marriage? Is that cost worth the gain to my marriage? Am I willing to roll the dice when I'm so happy now, in my life and in my marriage? But will I always be this happy, or will a void develop eventually? How can I tell?

I think there's a lot of joy to be found in parenting. But I also think society is involved in one big PR campaign that hides how hard parenting really is. Children are not your immortality. They do not validate your existence. They are not your little special angels. They are (usually) not the future president or the next mathematical genius. They are just children, with all of the joys and misery that entails, and I feel very sorry for you if you expected them to be anything else.

There's a lot of joy in parenting, yes: maybe a greater joy than you can find in anything else, if only because the hardest work often yields the greatest feeling of reward. But I do feel that parenting, at least if you're good at it, promises a level of heartbreak you won't suffer anywhere else. Many will say it's worth it. And for them, maybe it is. Maybe it will be worth it for me as well. Or maybe no one likes to look back and admit that parenting was a disappointing experience for them. Who wants to say that out loud about something they spent twenty years on?

I have a lot of questions to answer. So does Mr. Schnozz. First we have to answer those questions as best we can. Then we have to find out whether we both agree on the decision that should result. (Bombshell: So far, we don't, though I won't tell you who is on which side. What do you think about THAT, people-who-keep-asking-when-we'll-have-kids?)

Here's what I need to parent, none of which can be given up:
1. I must be a good parent, able to put my child's needs before my own.
2. I must be able to allow my child to be whomever they turn out to be--gay, straight, Christian, Buddhist, tattooed, whatever--and respect whatever they choose. I must have the strength to accept the outcome, whatever it may be.
3. I must feel I am bettering the world in some way, not simply adding another person to it. (Though I have nothing against just adding another person, because, hey! That's how I came to exist! But it's not what I want for myself.)***

So you can keep asking if you like. I'm not sure it's appropriate, but I am most certainly used to it. Just realize that no matter how many times you ask, I'm going to wait until I'm ready.

And if I'm never ready, so be it.

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*OUCH. I wince anytime I hear someone say this to a couple. Back off, will you? Considering the divorce rate, I would expect you to applaud them for taking their time. But no: We must rush everyone forward, no matter what, because when people don't do what we did, it makes us very nervous, because we are deeply insecure about our own lives. I mean, I was just teasing when I asked that!
**This one comes from my parents. They taught me as a child never to ask how much someone made, what something cost, etc. They consider it very rude to talk about money. I used to think this was a little weird, but now that I'm older, I see their point. I don't enjoy feeling compelled to justify the purchase price of a theater system to an aunt or something when they goggle disapprovingly at the cost, and I do find that I resent the question for that reason. So, go parents--you were totally right on that one.
***Pay close attention to number 3. Number 3 does not really point to a biological child, does it? Consider yourself warned. If you're a racist ass, you may want to start watching your mouth around me. Just a suggestion.