There is an anti-baby-slash-having-kids movement going on in the world today. And if I had the capacity or time to care about stupid crap then it would probably bother me. Well, I guess it’s bothering me enough to write a blog post about it. Let’s stop splitting hairs.
Now maybe this aforementioned movement has been around forever. But now as a mother and avid user of social media I have just recently become a [reluctant] addressee. I’m not smacking strangers in the face with my kid’s pictures or artwork or soiled diapers, but when these people find out I’m a mom, they feel the need to smugly declare their aversion to miniature people. “[in the voice of Lovey Howell] I’m never going to have children. I cherish my freedom.” OR “kids are weird looking and unproductive members of society”. Well that’s nice, as I’m holding my toddler upside down and she’s kicking me in the ear repeatedly and trying to pull my pants around my ankles. I’ve always wanted to respond, “Boy I wish YOUR parents had the same idea.” Instead I just nod and hope that my little bundle of joy sharts so I can aim it at them.
When I was seven months pregnant, I actually had some self-important rube (who informed me in this very same exchange that he and his wife would NEVER want children) ask me to give him five reasons why I wanted to have a baby. Really? I wanted to do the Lucy Van Pelt thing and count off my fingers into a fist. Here are five good reasons, butthole. But instead I told him that I skipped a month of birth control and the rhythm method DOES NOT work. Those two nifty little bullet points were going to have to do for Mr. Needledick.
In this day and age, everyone feels entitled to share and overshare their opinions. Which is fine, it’s totally fine. Freedom of speech and all that stuff. Want kids, don’t want kids, it really has no effect on me. But just as you are entitled to your opinion, I am also entitled to not be choked with it. So go ahead and drive your Chrysler Town & Country bespattered with stickers announcing that you are pro-life and that “the pill kills”. Or continue rolling your eyes while my daughter has a meltdown in the pet care aisle because I will not buy her a flea collar. Whatever your stance on what has happened or what will happen in my uterus or your uterus or that bag lady over there’s uterus, just leave me the hell out of it.