I was at a friend’s house for dinner when my life changed
forever. My friend has a wife and three
young boys, all of whom are lovely, I’m sure.
But I saw something that night that shook me to my core.
One of the kids had been playing with his food. And by playing, I mean wrestling it into bits
with his stubby, sticky fingers and stuffing some of it in his mouth. Some of these bits dropped along the way,
some made it into his gaping maw, then somehow flew back out and some he sucked
in, blew back out and then gently placed back on his plate. All of it was drenched with drool and little
bits of chewed up corn and mucus and who knows what else. And yet, when he was full, my friend grabbed
the food off of his plate and put it in his own mouth.
I wanted to puke.
If you’re a parent, you probably think this is no big
deal. You probably do it all the time
and poo-poo any notions of grossness from those outside of the parental
circle. But I gotta tell ya – that shit
is nasty.
And that is the night that I realized that I no longer
wanted to be a parent. Yes, as an
unmarried man in my 40’s, I’d already been thinking through the likelihood that
parenthood was just not going to happen for me.
Which was a bummer. I’ve always
wanted kids. In fact, I viewed having
children as the greatest adventure that life had to offer. I still think that. But I don’t want kids anymore.
I think you need to fall into parenthood before you’re able
to see it clearly. I’m sure younger
people have some ideas about the late nights and the spitting up and the poop
and the worrying and all the rest. But
they don’t see it clearly. They’re not
in the thick of it. And if you’ve got baby
brain, you’re probably going to focus more on the positives, the cooing and the
cuteness and all of that crap. Those who
are already parents feed these delusions, as they realize that misery loves
company, and they pitch parenthood like car salesmen trying to meet their
end-of-the-month quotas.
But, like I said, I was in my 40’s, and I’m not as
emotionally swayed as some people. And
here’s the thing – I kinda like being a bachelor. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to find the right
woman. I love being in a
relationship. But, if I’m honest, I have
become a bit set in my ways. A bit
self-centered. A bit of a curmudgeon,
even. And it has become increasingly
clear to me that a baby will throw your entire life into upheaval. With no end.
Just to be clear, that phrase was not ‘with no end in
sight’. It’s ‘with no end’.
I know there are positives.
I’m not going to list them here, and you don’t need to tell me. And when I was younger, that math made
sense. I was willing to lose the sleep
and be grossed out and stay up all night worrying and all the rest.
But now? I like to
get a good night’s sleep. I like taking
naps. I like leaving the house with
hands that are not carrying strollers and diaper bags. I like swearing whenever the fuck I
want. I like sitting on my ass watching
TV or playing video games. I like not
being interrupted 16,000 times a day. I
like not having to lug 60lbs. of tired toddler from place to place. I like doing whatever I want whenever I
want. I like not having anyone depend on
me. And I like eating food that has not
been in someone else’s mouth.
So that night was the nail in the coffin. That night, I looked at my friend and his
lovely, lovely family and realized I was over it. From then on, I was able to embrace my
bachelorhood and enjoy it more fully.
And I have my friend’s gross kids to thank for that.
