Prompt: A vague notion that others are reflecting and writing about something having to do with parenting
When my father was my age (41) he had four children, the oldest of which was 17. I was 15 at the time, and it’s difficult for me to recall what the world looked like to me then. I loved sports, especially playing soccer. I was obsessed with one girl or another, continuously, in that worshipful, “she’s unobtainable” way of the pimply-faced adolescent. I used to babysit for spending money, usually on a Friday or Saturday night for one of my father’s cousins. It was easy money, and a chance check out HBO or Cinemax after the kids went to bed, in the hopes of catching a boob scene or two in Porky’s or Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I remember one night, at about 2am, I caught the first hour of Lady Chatterly’s Lover, which went way beyond the usual brief booby flash. But I digress…
I was always in demand as a babysitter, partly because my Dad’s cousins liked to get trashed every weekend, but also because I had a way with kids. I still do, I think. I’m a goofball who clowns around constantly no matter the setting, but kids find me especially amusing, and I can often be found at family gatherings surrounded by multiple little buggers, one or two of them maybe even climbing on my back or clinging to one of my limbs. And yet I have never seriously considered having children of my own. Partly this has to do with the particular way events in my life have shaken out. I didn’t get married until I was 35, and I’ve never been in any kind of secure place financially. Also, I married someone who isn’t at all interested in having kids. Yes, this is highly relevant piece of the puzzle!
With the holidays come visits with family, and my wife and I are the only couple in the entire extended family (both sides) who do not either have children or aspire to have them. While many folks don’t seem to care one bit about our childlessness, many seem troubled by it, I think because raising a family is at the center of many of their respective value systems. As an ardent non-follower/non-believer of religion, I’m often confronted by a similarly weird vibe around religious family members. Again, it’s a perceived conflict of values, and honestly it goes two ways in that I’m not particularly comfortable around those whom I perceive as devaluing that which I hold sacred. So what do I hold sacred? I suppose I value the pursuit of truth above all else, which for me is characterized by a commitment to intellectual honesty, critical thinking and self-awareness. While belief in God or following a particular religion doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive with these things, in my experience I have been all too often dismayed – and at times even frightened – by how unwilling and uninterested most people are when it comes to reflecting deeply upon their lives. But then again, perhaps I reflect too much. When it comes to religion, nearly everyone I know who identifies as Christian was simply born into it. Same with other religions. My parents encouraged me to question religion, to appreciate whatever aspects of this or that tradition I found to be interesting or appealing and to ditch the rest. And so my attitude is perhaps likewise mostly a product of my environment. But what of my stubborn refusal to procreate?
The fact that my wife doesn’t want kids is obviously THE limiting factor here. My two previous girlfriends are now mothers, and I have to wonder what might have been had either of those relationships lasted. Might I be a Daddy by now? Or perhaps these women kicked me to the curb precisely because they sensed I was not up to the task. Who knows… What I do know is that becoming a father is simply not a topic that shows up in my thoughts and emotions until someone asks me about it. And when someone does ask me to reflect on it, I usually just give a shrug of the shoulders. I’ve never ever, not once in my entire life, had a thought, feeling or tingling in my naughty parts that said: “I would rather be parenting right now than doing what I’m doing.” I’m equally interested in writing a symphony in G minor, or building a boat with popsicle sticks – which is to say not at all interested. I’m not against the idea of having kids, as if on philosophical grounds. I suppose I just like my life the way it is. And yet, if somehow my sperm were able to both penetrate rubber barriers and outwit my wife’s birth control medication (Yes, BOTH!), AND a baby started to grow in her belly, AND we decided to let nature take its course, then I honestly believe I would just take it in stride and embrace fatherhood fully. Hmmm…
I’m glad we had this chat. Now I can more fully appreciate the value of thinking about what I want to write about BEFORE I start writing!