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:
Pros:
- 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.
Cons:
- 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!
