"The Time has come," the walrus said, "to Talk of Many Things,
We Might Want to Have Kids -
So Convince Me This is A Good Idea - "
"Well..." I answered slowly, "mine just spent four days at their grandmother's so that we could see if eleven prescription drugs could get my migraines under control and guess what? I'd forgotten that you can watch movies without closed captions! Did you know that characters have VOICES?! That there is such a thing as sound design?"
"Er..." my friend (who is not a walrus) answered.
"SOUND DESIGN!!" and then I cackled a little too maniacally because really, I haven't blogged in two months because I've been bouncing from one neurologist to another while they all poked me and stuffed me into machines and went "OOOH!" and "Huh" and "That's rare" and "That shouldn't do that" and "You hallucinate WHAT?" and finally just pushed me on to another doctor because none of them are Dr. House and they are not interested by my rare condition. They are annoyed that I won't fit in their boxes or respond as I ought to their medications. The last doctor simply called me a "unicorn" and said we were in waters, so "let's try some stuff and be patient".
Where was I? Right.
I owe my friend. I owe all my friends. I owe every reader who has ever skimmed this blog and laughed at my stories of poo and thought, 'Thank heaven I have no offspring' because frankly, I've done you a disservice. You deserve all the same misery I've had. More than that, you deserve all the same joys.
It isn't really a good idea to have kids.
It's the most crazy, fabulously adventurous thing two people can do.
So you really ought to try it.
Why?
Reason #1: Your children will show you the Worst of Yourself. And the Best.
Sure, the first thing you may hear in the morning is sarcasm. Your six year old may be helping his little sister get breakfast cereal, and she may be demanding 2% milk, and he may suddenly sigh and snap, "Well, we are out of that milk and I am not a magician so I can't just make it appear!" And you think to yourself, 'That is absolutely my fault. Sorry, kid'.
And perhaps, later on, while he attempts to set the kitchen timer on the microwave, he will fall into your habit of yelling at inanimate objects: "NO, MICROWAVE, NO! NOT COOK! JUST TIMER! DO NOT COOK! AAARGH!"
This may be the moment you despair. You may think, 'I am not fit to care for children. I have harmed society by allowing my DNA to replicate. Perhaps it isn't too late to find a good home for them - they are cute and housebroken, after all."
But then, there is a moment when you hear your son playing a game with his sister where he is obviously cheating FOR her, so that she will win. He whispers the answers to her, and when she calls them out, he praises her to the skies as the smartest little girl he knows. Then he reads out loud to her and gets her a snack while Mommy has to lay in the dark bedroom with her Superhero mask (blackout sleep mask). And when your son comes in to check on your headache and kisses your cheek, you think, 'Well, I suppose I haven't done the worst job ever.'
Then he clinches it by asking:
"Can I make you a sandwich? Would that make your headache better?"
In his defense, not one neurologist offered that as a cure for migraine, so for all we know, it could very well be the missing link.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that kids are a little bit like marriage - the force you to face yourself every single day in a brutally honest way. The make you grow up in tough ways, in good ways, in hard ways, in beautiful ways.
I highly recommend it.
Of course, your other kid may flash half the church with her new dress during the Lord's Prayer, and you will spend the rest of the service in a silent facepalm of shame, but hey! A little humility is good for us all.
