Thanks, but no thanks.

One of my favorite bloggers is Teacher Lady. She writes very well, is very funny, and has something very rare in common with me…

Neither of us wants to have kids.

This weekend she wrote about this very topic – specifically about the things people say to her (so rude!) when she tells them she doesn’t want to procreate. It really hit home for me, so I thought I’d share my feelings on the matter because heck, what is this blawg thing good for if not baring my soul to strangers?

When I was a little kid, I had in my mind that I would get married at the age of 33. I thought 33 sounded like a good, grown-up age. I loved writing stories about families with lots of kids (no less than 7 – the number of kids my maternal grandparents had) because I loved making up names (Caitlin Spencer was my main character of choice). But I didn’t dream of having kids myself.

I only baby-sat a handful of times growing up and never felt comfortable doing it. I remember babysitting across the street once when I was around 11 years old. (We moved when I was 12, so definitely before then.) I was only watching the youngest daughter, who was maybe 2 years old. She was taking a nap and I was bored, so I decided to wake her up so that we could play together. Of course, she started crying – and would not stop. I, the unexperienced young babysitter (they didn’t cover this in my CPR class!), called the girl’s grandmother who proceeded to come over. Needless to say, the parents were not thrilled with my services.

When I was older, I babysat a few times for the little boy next door and always hated it. I vividly remember sitting there and playing in the silence of their big house. I counted the seconds until the parents would be home.

I seem to have matured with age, thankfully. FiancéMan and I babysat for some friends of ours a few months ago; they have a 3-year old girl (who adorably calls me “Miss Nicole”) and a 1-1/2 year old boy. Granted, it was almost their bedtime and we spent the hour and a half before then watching a cartoon movie, but it was wonderfully easy. I was a little nervous, but it felt pretty natural! When the girl stubbed her toe as we headed up to bed, I soothed her so that the tears didn’t even come. I felt like a superhero.

But when it comes down to it, I have no urge to have kids of my own. Almost every other woman I know who doesn’t have kids yet, just knows that she wants them someday. It’s a pretty freakin’ huge decision so I’m thinking that if I don’t have any particular urge to do it, then maybe it’s not meant to be.

(In case you’re wondering, FM doesn’t want kids either.)

People always say, “You’re still young. Never say never!” when I tell them about our choice. To which I reply, “Yeah. We’ll see.” Which is true. You never know. But seriously? If I changed my mind, which I think is unlikely, I would feel like a huge arse. Of course, I’d have to tuck away that feeling because yes, I was wrong and you were right, but so what – now I want to become a mommy! Isn’t that cool? I’m gonna join the club! I’m sure the excitement of deciding to become a parent would very quickly override my embarrassment at having broadcast to the whole world that this day would never come.

But although I’d love to see what my little bundle of joy would look like (don’t we all have that urge?), the desire to become a parent is simply not within me.

Does that make me selfish? I don’t think so. I can’t help it that I don’t have the Mommy Gene. Frankly, there are so many people already on this planet that I should be given a high five for not adding to the population.

Am I going to spend that money on myself? You bet your bottom dollar that I am. But again: not selfish. There’s no kid to spend the money on and LB wants a new pair of boots for the winter!

I have to admit, the idea of being old and having my kids all come home for Christmas sounds positively lovely. Sometimes when I write an update in my journal (which happens about once a year), I think about “my grandchild” someday reading it. Um, yeah, can’t have grandkids without kids, you dumbass! And all of you bloggers with kids certainly make it sound amusing. The things kids say when they’re 3 and 4 years old are hilarious! It almost makes me want to have one purely for the amusement factor. (Almost.)

But I just can’t picture is actually raising these imaginary people. Paying for day care or taking a household income cut to stay home with them. Carting the kids around to soccer practice. Helping with homework. (I’ll be the first to admit that I would get cut from "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth-Grader?" so fast that Jeff Foxworthy’s head would spin.) And let’s not forget: kids are expensive. Buying all those clothes and toys and the food and running the dishwasher every freakin’ day and what’s that? Timmy broke the mirror off of Mr. Smith’s Ferrari and here’s the bill? Awesome.

So, dear readers – all three of you that are left…How do you/did you approach the idea of having children? Did you know all of your lives that it was just something you wanted to do (or not)?

Moobs, if you’re reading this, I hope that it hasn’t upset you…People like you wanting a baby so badly and people like me who might be able to have one but just choose not to… You hope you know that I wish a baby for you and P so much.