2003-03-05 - 8:56 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "London Bridge", specifically the part with "Build it up with iron bars". I must've seen a reference to iron bars someplace.

A couple days ago I put up LiveJournal post asking people who (intend to) have children what there reasons were.

The specificities differed, but it seems that for women at least, the answer's pretty simple: They have kids because they want kids, and the experience of raising a family.

To me, this is the ONLY good reason to have them. Not because you want to see what it'll turn out like, not because you think it'll bring you closer to your SO, and not because you think babies are cute. Because YOU WANT CHILDREN. And I mean this from the perspective that they know it's not gonna be all gurgles and smiles, that it's incredibly rewarding hard work. (Our friend Justin said it was the most wonderful and the most difficult thing that he's ever been through, simultaneously.)

So, my main reason for not wanting to have kids is pretty simple: I don't have the urge. I don't desire the experience of raising a family.

I wrote an e-mail to New Iconoclast talking about it, and I think I'll reproduce it here, with some revisions:

1. I don't have the urge. I love babies, love children, could never get tired about hearing about them or my friends' parenting stories, but I just. don't. want. one of my own. If I did, I would have 'em by now.

2. It will change my relationship with my husband in a way I really, really do not want it to change right now.

Both of these are things that may change. If #1 changes, then I'd imagine #2 will be something I am willing to forego. As New Iconoclast pointed out, it's still possible to have a very fulfilling relationship; it just takes a little juggling and prioritizing. Right now I don't want to juggle.

On a slightly more superficial level, I really need a lot of sleep and am a little worried about how I'd handle that. :) But that's also something I can probably deal with, if #1 changes.

There is another reason, one that even the urge would make me question. I had a very good childhood, and I have excellent parents. But having children -- particularly teenagers -- means a lot of conflict. A lot of having to make someone do things they don't want to do, and for reasons they are too young to understand. Although I understand that this is necessary, and good, conflict makes me very unhappy. I'm not talking about conflict that teaches me something about myself, I'm talking about "I don't want to put my shoes on!" conflict when we have doctor's appointment to get to. Pointless conflict (except perhaps for the toddler in question ;).

For some people, this kind of conflict is easily brushed aside. For me, it's harder. I have no doubt that I could be patient with the toddler, and would rarely, if ever, lash out at kids, but my heavens, the thought of dealing with it day in and day out makes me want to cry. It would be hard on me. And it NEVER STOPS. I can't escape from it. Maybe someday, if the urge hits, I will find that I am willing to pay this price. But I'm not right now.

I deliberately married someone with whom I have a low possibility of conflict, and then even when we do have it, it's handled more easily than I have ever handled conflict before. I am not butting up against someone whose personality is fundamentally different from my own -- a good possibility when one has children. Heck, I don't know if I could even stand to parent the 15-year-old version of ME, even though I'd understand everything she was going through.

It was interesting, though, during my trip to Arizona, to get a small glimpse of what the joys of parenthood must be like. I've experienced plenty of the downsides in my experiences with friends and family -- inconsolable infants, uncontrollable toddlers, mouthy older kids, and troublemaking teenagers. The joys are a little harder for me to see, since I am not very close to any kids. But in Arizona, I spent a week in close proximity with an infant, 6-year-old, and a 10-year-old, and I noticed a few things. Babies, well, they're cuddly and cute. It was amazing to see the 10-year-old learn, to see how smart he is and how he graps new concepts and understands things. And the 6-year-old, well... that's a bit of a story.

When I was a kid, I remember getting hugs and kisses from people I didn't know very well. I didn't much like it. So it's my policy these days not to touch kids once they can walk (infants just have to put up with nonstop hugs and cheek-kisses) unless they have expressed a clear interest in me and begin to touch me themselves (climbing into my lap for a story, grabbing my hand, leaning on my leg while talking to me when they're standing and I'm sitting, stuff like that). So I just spent some time talking to Justin's daughter and getting to know her again (I only see her once a year or so), with the occasional affectionate hair-ruffle, but not hugging her like I would have loved to do, because she's SO FREAKIN' CUTE.

Then at the zoo, some moron was zooming down the hill on a skateboard, and I reached out to her to pull her closer to me and said "Look out!" And she made a beeline for me, threw her arms around my knees, and held on for dear life.

And I got a bit of a rush. From the open affection, and from knowing that she was depending on me to keep her safe. If I felt like that about my friend's kid, what must parents feel? Wow. No wonder.

But in spite of all that, the urge still hasn't hit me. It's still baffling to me, sometimes, that I can be so very interested in children and parenting and yet not want children of my own. Perhaps I'm just an "armchair parent". :) But you can probably see why I'm not saying "never". It really doesn't seem very likely, but it's not definite yet. I guess we'll find out. :)

The baby seemed to make a decision for me when we left. After being postively angelic, hardly crying at all the whole week we were there (seriously), she spent the entire drive to Phoenix airport (30 minutes) crying. I tried to get her to take a bottle, chew on my finger (she's teething), and I stroked her hair, to no avail. Poor baby. :) I just don't know that I can do that full-time.

And now, on a much less serious note:

As I said to Portia, to whom I e-mailed this photo last night, I AM THE POTTY QUEEN! ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!!!

Some of you know exactly what this means, too. :)

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