For most of my twenties, I didn't want kids. I found them annoying, needy and expensive. I was prepared to admit that one day I might change my mind, but I certainly didn't feel any pressing need to procreate. Over the last five years, things changed a bit, and for various predictable reasons my desire to have children of my own grew a fair bit to the point where I would say 'I definitely want them one day.' But still, I rarely felt broody. The only exception to that would be when I seriously fancied a guy, or while I was in a relationship, when my libido and my desire for kids would skyrocket together, but I've been single for a long time, and haven't fancied anyone of note for quite a while, so at the moment, my desires are low. I remained sure, however, that I would try and have babies at some point in the future. Until this weekend.
I spent Friday and Saturday nights in Oxfordshire at my friend Lucy's house, where she lives with her husband, her nearly-four year old daughter and her two year old son. And let me say right from the start, they are seriously good kids - not just from the perspective of well-behaved etc., but from an outsider's point of view, someone such as myself who'd need marketing to, they are excellent examples of their genres - the girl is very pretty with long hair and an amazing Cupid's-bow mouth, and the boy has huge wide blue eyes that he narrows winningly in a Blue Steel fashion to win over girls. He has quite nicely chubby cheeks and goes adorably red-faced when he's upset. They like to play games, they run around happily, the boy has a winning lisp, they go to sleep when they're expected to, they eat pretty much what they're given - it's all very good. But I realised this weekend that my other main experience of kids has been with my friend Nicole, who lives not far away in Gloucestershire and has three daughters but, crucially, has an au pair. Luce and Jake have help on three days when she goes to work, but other than that, they're on their own. This weekend, as it is for most families most of the time, it was just them and the kids - and me - and I think I found the amount of work quite a shock. I'll rephrase that. I definitely found it a shock.
I want to want kids, don't get me wrong. I think having them is the most natural thing in the world, and I look at people who've already got a nipper or two and feel like they are somehow more justified than I am: they've done the one thing that we're really here to do, whereas I'm just selfishly drifting along. More than just biologically, kids have appealed massively to me: they are endlessly fascinating. I loved tutoring them and I really enjoy the interactions I have with them, whatever their age. But god, the relentlessness of it this weekend, the Every Single Dayness of it, the utter sacrifice, the patience, the selflessness - I just don't know if I've got it. Lucy loves it, she loves being needed, she loves being a mother. Perhaps as a result, she is very good at it - and I'm sure her kids will be assets. I think mine might be asses.
Of course, this is all very fortunate, since I am about as likely to get pregnant as duet with The Wiggles, but even though it's totally hypothetical, it's still an interesting shift, and does make my hopes and plans for the future look a little odd. And I know, people say it's different when they're your own, and things will change if I meet a guy I love, but the fact is, I'm just not sure I can do it, and the world certainly doesn't need any more mouths to feed. Maybe I just shouldn't add to the number. I'm pretty sure it's the kind of thing you should be pretty sure about before getting involved.
Anyway. It was an interesting weekend. I ate Shane Warne's weight in chocolate mousse, plus Celebrations, wine, lamb, potatoes, fish, homemade pizza with puff pastry base, toast, cereal ack ack ack. Delicious. Jake and I lost to Luce, Em and Erf at Trivial Pursuit, which was annoying, but my pain was more than calmed by the discovery of an incredibly compelling group TV watching experience called 1000 Ways To Die, a couple of long hilly walks, clusters of snowdrops peeking through the grass, a relaxing hungover Sunday morning watching Andy Murray scream at his mum and trainer to shut up like the petulant dinosaur he is, many interesting discussions round the dinner table and two really good nights' sleep. A great break from the smoke, but, as always, the familiarity of the plentiful strangers were a welcome sight as I caught the tube back home yesterday evening. Friends rock but the perspective given by anonymity is vital too. I'm off to be acupunctured. Will report back tomorrow. Ohhhhmmmmmmmm.
I can see where you are coming from and i have to admit to struggling with the lack of personal time when mine were young. However, this stage is relatively short-lived( ok, 4-5 years;-)) after which they become ever more independent and equal. And if you are very lucky, you end up with wonderful adults ,who enjoy and seek your company and nothing beats that!
ReplyDeleteLike you, I'm not adverse to the idea of having a couple of kids in five or so years. But I struggle to imagine how I personally would cope with all the selfless things I would have to do. Guess once you have a kid, you just have to get on with it.
ReplyDeleteYou would need to eat 1416.66 pots of chocolate mousse to equal Shane Warne's weight.
Hey Anon - I know, you're right, but frankly I'm just not sure I can be bothered. We'll see. No rush to decide yet.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the chocolate mousse fact, Thom - I can assure you that this mousse was not the kind that comes in a pot with a foil lid, it was homemade and contained nothing but fat. It was basically Fat Mousse, flavoured with chocolate. I've never had anything so delicious - I've dreamed about eating it twice since I returned to London. Those were the days, my friend.