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My Glorious Return to Ann Arbor
Hey kids, I'm back!
Miss me?
Did I miss anything?
I was out of town since Thursday to read about serial killers and plan my new novel. Mostly, I read about killers, thought a lot about my new novel, ate food that is bad for me and played with the kiddies. Babies are cute, but that cry they do is horrendous. Plus for all that cuteness there's tiny butts with mammoth size poops, screeching cries that go all through the night, weird smells and lots of spitting, plus you can't tell what they want half the time even if they're trying to talk to you. And the draw to want to figure them out is strong.
As I inch closer to 40, I realize that my window for kid having is drawing to a close. Being around other people's kids makes me think about it more than usual.
H doesn't want any kids, which almost certainly means that I won't have any. And these days, I don't think that's a big deal. Ten years ago, I would have thought my life was over if I didn't have a couple of kids, a house and a hubby and all that crap. The more I think about it, I think that's what the average person does. Like joining the army, it also seems to be what some people do when they aren't sure what else to do with their lives. There's a whole book about it, about how poor women keep having kids because it's the only thing they can do that's actually worth something (or so they seem to think).
EDIT: This is not to denigrate anyone's choice to procreate. Plenty of spectacular people are excellent parents, just like plenty of boring people choose to remain childless.
Oddly enough, I feel fulfilled in my life in many ways. I don't think a baby would make me happier, just more average or dare I say "normal". Thing is, I have no desire to be either of those things; and I'm certainly not going to have a baby just to fit in with contemporary society's idea of what women are supposed to do. And it's not like there's a shortage of kids running around. So for now, I think I'll be happy just playing with other people's babies and not give birth to anything but novels, TV and movie reviews, and maybe some new kind of cake. I like cake, and it is nice and quiet.
Besides, the bird flu will probably kill us all in the end...
Miss me?
Did I miss anything?
I was out of town since Thursday to read about serial killers and plan my new novel. Mostly, I read about killers, thought a lot about my new novel, ate food that is bad for me and played with the kiddies. Babies are cute, but that cry they do is horrendous. Plus for all that cuteness there's tiny butts with mammoth size poops, screeching cries that go all through the night, weird smells and lots of spitting, plus you can't tell what they want half the time even if they're trying to talk to you. And the draw to want to figure them out is strong.
As I inch closer to 40, I realize that my window for kid having is drawing to a close. Being around other people's kids makes me think about it more than usual.
H doesn't want any kids, which almost certainly means that I won't have any. And these days, I don't think that's a big deal. Ten years ago, I would have thought my life was over if I didn't have a couple of kids, a house and a hubby and all that crap. The more I think about it, I think that's what the average person does. Like joining the army, it also seems to be what some people do when they aren't sure what else to do with their lives. There's a whole book about it, about how poor women keep having kids because it's the only thing they can do that's actually worth something (or so they seem to think).
EDIT: This is not to denigrate anyone's choice to procreate. Plenty of spectacular people are excellent parents, just like plenty of boring people choose to remain childless.
Oddly enough, I feel fulfilled in my life in many ways. I don't think a baby would make me happier, just more average or dare I say "normal". Thing is, I have no desire to be either of those things; and I'm certainly not going to have a baby just to fit in with contemporary society's idea of what women are supposed to do. And it's not like there's a shortage of kids running around. So for now, I think I'll be happy just playing with other people's babies and not give birth to anything but novels, TV and movie reviews, and maybe some new kind of cake. I like cake, and it is nice and quiet.
Besides, the bird flu will probably kill us all in the end...