You know how sometimes you stress/fret/ponder/question/analyze/wonder about things outside of your control? I rarely do that, and I am serious when I say that. Some past highly stressful life experiences have taught me that there’s no point in worrying because doing so rarely solves anything; things almost always work out in the end. Yet there’s this one teeny weenie thought that keeps popping in my head that causes me to pull a Rodin and really think about.
I hate math. I still use my fingers to count and anything outside of basic addition and subtraction causes my brain to violently hemorrhage. So when you add a disconcerting thought with a hatred of math, you’ve got a big ol’ conundrum on your hands… which I do, but not really.
Bear with me here...
You see, I’m at that age where numbers really factor into things. How many more years until I retire. The rapid rate at which my hair is turning gray. The amount I still owe in student loans. The number of childbearing years I have left in my life. Wait, what? Did I say that? Ok, hear me out.
I am 38 years old. THIRTY-EIGHT. At this point my eggs aren’t dried up, just slightly pickled.. but as a single, barren, thirty-eight year old, here is how my head works:
I’m a few months into my thirty-eighth year. So, let’s say I meet the man of my dreams sometime this year (snicker snicker). We date for a couple of years which will make me 40. We go on a vacation to somewhere warm where he proposes to me in an overly emotional way (for him, not me), I accept. We date for another year or so just to make sure he’s not a psycho (like my ex) and alas, I’m 42. We get married and take a year or two to honeymoon it. Now I’m pushing 44. FORTY-FOUR!! That is half of 88 (that was the extent of my math skills going on right there)!! Who wants to have a kid at 44?? Not me. Not to mention my eggs will be shriveled up and dead by then.
So let the math continue (shoot me now). So I have a kid at 44. That means I will potentially have a kid at my house until I am 62 years old. There is always the chance that I will kill the kid because I don’t have the patience that I used to (snicker snicker again. I have never been patient), so that could play into this whole thing as well.
When it comes down to it, let’s be real, I won’t find someone who can put up with me and there won’t be any immaculate conception going on here… so maybe I just do it by myself? Hard decisions call for a good ol’ pros and cons list:
- I think I would make a stellar parent (with the exception of the patience-thing).
- I’d mold him/her to be a mini-me which in turn would be awesome.
- I’d have a built in sober driver.. that’s ok right?
- I have always wanted to say to my kid, “I will remember that!” like my mother used to say to me?
- I could blame him/her for me being chubby. “I just haven’t lost that baby weight yet!”
- I want someone to take care of me when I’m old? Which I would be soon after they were born… so…
- As a parent you get a whole day all about you: Mother's/Father's day. Hellooo presents!
- I could name he/she anything I wanted. Bocephus Klein has a nice ring to it.
- He/She would take up my precious time and I have very little of it even now.
- I’d have to move out of my little house (or have a Flowers in the Attic type setup)…
- I’ve heard horror stories of child birth and the aftermath. Sounds painful and unpleasant.
- I like to sleep without interruptions.
- I would have to spend my money on things other than Coors Light. Deal.breaker.
- I would have to keep a job for more than a year.. psh..
- I’d have to befriend other moms… who will be half my age. No thanks.
- Tickets to get out of this state are expensive enough and having to buy another seat for a kid? Probs not.
- Do I really want to bring a child into this world? I don’t know see good ol’ fashioned values coming back into play anytime soon and this world has kind of gone to crapola.
- I think it’d be harder to find a date with a kid.. Oh, wait. I can’t find a date without one. Moot point.
Maybe I will just pretend to be faux-prego for a while and see how it feels. Let me start my checklist to prepare:
- Eat enough for two. ü
- Grow a baby bump. ü(although some may call it a beer belly)
- Have constant mood swings. ü
- Pee all the time. ü
- Buy maternity pants. ü (thought I was buying super comfy pants..nope, maternity)
So what are y’alls thoughts on this? For those of you who don’t have kids, do you regret it? For those of you who do have kids, do you regret it? HA!