I've never wanted kids. When I was one myself, the thought terrified me. My mom (now, Mom, don't go beating yourself up for some sort of unintentional childhood psychosis you fed. This is meant to be FUNNY) told me that when you were ready Jesus would put a baby in your belly. This horrified me.The children I didn't want would be a gift from Jesus! Trying to make it better Mom added that if he gave me a baby he'd also give me the desire to have it. Great. Now Jesus would be messing with my mind, changing my brain so I wouldn't be a horrible mother.
In grade four when I learned how babies were really made (When a mommy and a daddy really love each other the daddy takes his - here, let me draw you a picture...) I was torn between feeling disgusted and sooo relieved. I had control! No spontaneous babies in this tummy, thank you very much. I'll be child free forever.
That being said, I'm getting to that age where I'm told a lot of women start to reconsider child-rearing options. That whole ticking clock and all. Every now and then I wonder to myself, Do I want a family? Little children running around, drawing me cute pictures with crayons and bringing me cake in bed on my birthday?
And then, I'll pet-sit for someone. And the answer will come back, NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Take Pika. So, so cute. And gentle. That whole nose thing I mentioned last time. Really, really funny. The first few days. Then she started doing it every. Single. Time. I sat at the computer. She was like one of those brats who unintentionally does something adorable and you laugh, so then they keep doing it for the attention and it drives you mental.
Even when there's nothing wrong, you still have to be around regularly. That whole "feeding" thing has to happen a few times a day. They need to be escorted outside to use the washroom at regular intervals. And someone has to clean up after the vomit.
I love animals, and I enjoy looking out for them. I like being able to help my friends. But 14 days are my limit. At the end of that I'm ready to flee back to comforts of single living. No schedule. No responsibility for another life form. No worry of finding excrement on the floor if I'm late coming home.
And I'm not speaking from experience or anything, but I believe that kids are slightly more high-maintenance than pets. Maybe? A little?
So, the next time I get a struck with the question of kids, I have a whole battery of memories that I can use to talk myself off of that life-altering edge. Thanks, Pika!