I need to get something off my chest.
I secretly think that having kids would be the best thing ever. In my imagination, they wouldn’t be so awful, they’d actually be pretty fun, given I had them at the right time. I think I might not be the worst mother ever, and could probably do a bang-up job of raising some kids well enough to exist in society without being the smelly kids. Plus, Adrian is pretty good-looking, and I really hate to waste pretty jizz.
I still don’t think I want children.
Not because of the cost.
Not because of the headaches and sleepless nights.
Not even because of the raging puberties that promise only the smell of benzoyl peroxide and resentment.
I just don’t want to lose at the competition of being a mom.
Birth Is A Sport That No One Can Win
When you give birth, you get to either point at a human and say, “I shoved that out of here,” while pointing with both hands at your crotch or have one ripped from your stomach while the Doctor prays to Kali-Ma. I thought that when you really broke it down to black and white, your options for birthing were pretty cut and dry.
There are apparently hundreds of ways you can bring a fresh life into the world, and all of them are fucking wrong–after you choose one. Every single person who’s ever given birth is more badass than every other person because their method is correct, so go fuck yourself. Meds or No Meds, On-Your-Back or Squatting-Over-A-River, Hospital or Yurt, either way, you’re choosing the wrong one. There’s even a thing called hypnobirthing which seems completely ludicrous (which even includes the mantra, “exhale through your rectum.”)
If you even considered for a moment that you might want to re-enact the chestburster scene from Alien to add to your family, then you deserve a judgment-free gold medal. To me, it seems like if you even thought about getting pregnant at all, then you fucking won at birth.
A Neaderthal Movie In 6th Grade Predicted The Future
I once saw a documentary in middle school about how Neaderthals gave birth, which, looking back, seems an odd choice for a unit about Egyptian history. The school system was not fantastic.
The documentary showed one approximately 12-year-old girl giving birth to what looked like a piñata version of a caveman. The other cavewoman, who was 60-something, bit her way through the umbilical cord before whipping the piñata baby around to clear his lungs, and then feeding the piñata by spitting chewed fruit into his mouth.
I vividly remember thinking how horrifying this scene was, and attribute that greatly to my desire not to want to birth children. And now, when I think we’ve moved past being neanderthals, ALL OF THOSE THINGS ARE POPULAR AGAIN.
People eat placentas, make artwork with them, or even have their kids burn them as a rite of passage. There’s a woman in Russia who’s teaching “baby yoga,” which I translate roughly into, “horrifying child abuse.” Fucking celebrities are even penguin feeding their crotchlings like it’s totally an okay thing to do. I’m not sure I want to be a mom if that’s what’s expected of me.
My Kid’s So Unique He Doesn’t Even Fucking Exist
The final stage in motherhood competition seems to be making sure your child will stand out in a crowd of 7 billion other people who also need to eat, sleep and live. Seriously though, your kid matters most so fuck those other people.
I have little ground to stand on with a weird name myself, but when you’re purposely naming your child An’chta’jia (Anastasia), you’re just being an asshole to your child and to the world. Also? Your toddler has absolutely no interest in the finer points of ancient Indonesian spear fighting meditation, I swear. It will not get him into Harvard. It will get his ass kicked in middle school when he tries to bring it up. There is a fine line between a unique and a useless talent.
The message you’re sending is not that your child is unique or special in any way whatsoever. You’re just telling the world, “I want everyone to feel the most inferior to me.”
Guess what? It doesn’t work. When you raise a kid like this, they become the adults that we all love to loathe.
Those that send out save-the-dates on individual roses where each petal falls at a certain time to give you the information you need written in hand-calligraphed gold.
Those that demand special treatment at restaurants, schools, jobs, stores and offices simply for existing.
Those that bump into you and don’t apologize, and leave shopping carts to roam freely in the parking lot.
If motherhood is just one giant competition to see who gets to raise the most and the largest douchebags, then I’m out.
It’s hard for me not to be cynical about the world, you guys.– What do you think of mom-petition? Have you ever seen a blatant display or even called someone on their bullshit? Are you just as scared of raising assholes as I am? – Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Jen: “The Oatmeal had me at How To Beat Up a Dolphin. Every time I read them I feel as if the Mother Ship is calling me home.”