Fourteen

Since this is anonymous, I am going to say this phrase, which has always been buried deep inside of me but never uttered to anyone: I hate kids. Well, I don't hate them, but I don't like them. Well, maybe not the kids themselves, but I don't want to spend even one minute of my day talking about or listening to anything about your kids. I don't like hearing stories about how they are learning to pee pee in the big potty, or how they won their last soccer game, or what they are wearing to their first big dance with the boy from next door. I don't care about looking at their latest school photos, or hearing details of their upcoming field trip to the state capitol. I don't want to be invited to their birthdays, or graduations, or weddings, and not only do I not want invites, but I don't want to feel obligated to buy them gifts or see all the pictures you took of the party at the skating rink. I don't want to buy gift wrap or popcorn tins or cookies to support their team/marching band/scout troop. And please, don't email me with some kind of school project they are doing where I have to fill in the answers to twenty questions, then forward it back to you and ten of my friends- oh, this is fun and please keep it going, yadda yadda. No, I do not think it's sooooo cute when your baby spits up on my blouse or makes a stinky in his pants or throws his toy at my face. I find most children and stories/photos of them very boring, and I can't relate, and just because I'm a woman does not mean I can instantly fall into a stupor of joy while you show me what your child is going to wear for his first Halloween. Just because I am a woman does not mean I want to cradle your newborn baby in my arms or coo about how cute she is, and please do not invite me to any baby showers, I loathe them and everything about them- the gifts of baby clothes or breast pumps or teething rings, all the talk about being pregnant and what to expect, the oh-so-cutesy cake with pink and blue booties made from butter cream frosting, and the moronic games that get played at these shindigs- it's like nails on a chalkboard to me. And BORING!!!! I am offended by other women who believe that all women should love babies and toddlers, women who think there is something wrong with me when I say no thanks to offers of holding their child. Saying that, I'm glad I don't have children, and no I am NOT just saying this out of jealousy because I don't have kids and you do. I went back and forth all of my life with wanting to have a child, but fate pretty much decided it for me, and I'm good with scratching off a losing ticket on that lottery. Even when I was younger, I think I knew I didn't want kids. I never babysat, even as a teenager, because I didn't like kids even back then- while all my friends were racking up the cash with babysitting every summer. I tried it once, for a neighbor kid, and ended up calling my mom to come get me because I hated it and didn't want to do it, so she finished the chore for me. Now, I do love and adore all the nieces and nephews, and love to buy them gifts, get emails about them, and I even love to take my own photos of them during visits. Family is different, and we have a total of six kids on both sides of the family, to enjoy. But as far as friends' kids go, and even grandkids, I really could not care less. At my age, most of friends have grown children, so there isn't much to talk about. Some of my friends have grandchildren already, and when I would meet them for coffee or dinner, I really didn't want to spend the time talking about little kids I've never met and never will. But I would listen as politely as I could, and act interested, all for the sake of not coming off like a bitch to my dearest of girlfriends. One acquaintance always always brought me photos of her two boys, and talked my head off about them- all I could see were two very overweight redneck children who did poorly in school but were spoiled with every toy in the world, and I would listen to extremely odd stories about how her oldest son (in his early teens) would get in bed naked with her and she was perfectly fine with that, even thought it was cute and sweet. Oooh-kaaay, that's TMI for me, and a little on the fucked up side of creepy. I've found that people will say almost anything about their kids, like nothing is off limits, as though you're commenting about an object and not another human being. They talk about their damn bowel movements, for the love of Pete!! I do not want to know that your kid made a giant poop in his diaper just that morning. Hey, I took a dump in the ladies' room earlier, but I'm not talking about it over coffee in the break room!! I guess saying I don't like kids is a bit strong, what I should say is that when I'm with adults, wanting adult time, in adult locations like a nice steak house or Starbucks, I do not want to see or hear anything that has to do with your kids or anyone else's. And I sure as hell do not want to hear your kid screaming in the restaurant or see your kid running up and down the aisles at the movies on Friday night. Hey, have some respect and dignity, or get the hell out!! You do NOT have the right to fuck up my evening with your out of control kid- it's a public place that everyone is supposed to enjoy and if you can't keep your child quiet at 10pm in an R-rated movie, you really have no business being there in the first place. I have NO patience for that kind of crap, and I will despise you on sight if you allow your kid to act like a delinquent in public and expect everyone to just accept it and think they are cute when they are crying bloody murder. I don't want to cut into my fillet Mignon to the sounds of your child wailing and crushing packs of crackers on the table and throwing silverware- go to McDonald's if your cranky five-year-old can't behave properly, and you yourself don't belong in an establishment if you won't discipline your child, because you are a moron too. Kids are cute and say funny things, and your kid is on the honor roll or in the school pageant, I get it, I get it. Everyone's kids are! So when we get together to go out to dinner, let's just assume your kid has done something wonderfully clever lately, skip the details and photos, and get on with grownup talk like griping about our jobs and our husbands.