being a mom
If I Give You All The Reasons Iâ€™m Not Having More Kids, Will You Stop Asking?
I love my pediatrician. She is a smart French lady with an air of classy kindness, and once, before I had insurance, she let me pay her in hugs. Well, she billed me later, but she handled my embarrassed tears with kindness at the time. I love her so much that even though I moved out of the city years ago, I still make the hellish drive to see her twice a year. Still, she does this thing that annoys the crap out of me where at the end of each visit, she asks me in desperate Franglish when Iâ€™ll be giving my daughter a sibling, because kids need siblings.
To be fair, sheâ€™s not the only one. There is a time in every womanâ€™s life, Iâ€™ve learned, between the ages of twentysomething and thirtysomething when everyone is overly concerned with said womanâ€™s lady parts, and as soon as you pop out one, youâ€™ll be getting a million personal questions. Everyone from the grocery checkout lady to your fourth cousin twice removed wants to know whatâ€™s going on down there, so you might as well submit to a pelvic exam in Randallâ€™s and Skype in all of the interested parties.
Since Iâ€™ve already had a baby, and later married the man I was living in sin with, the question du jour seems to be along the lines of when I will be adding more little tax deductions to our family. The answer is never. Never ever, and Iâ€™m thinking of tattooing the reasons why onto my face so that I can stop fielding this question.
- I like my sleep.
This is my number one hugest reason why Iâ€™m not anxious to purchase Palmerâ€™s cocoa butter and those weird breast pad things. I like sleeping. I love it so much; I would marry it, have one baby with it, and then constantly deflect questions about having more babies with it. I feel like at seven, my kid has just started sleeping consistently through the night, and thatâ€™s when sheâ€™s not sick or having nightmares. The very idea of starting from day one with a screaming baby gives me a case of the vapors so bad that only wine will calm the anxiety. A lot of wine. Thankfully, I can sleep it off.
- I hate my siblings.
Okay, this isnâ€™t entirely fair, or even true. I am estranged from one sibling, one rarely has a phone hooked up, and I am in fact quite close to my third sibling. I donâ€™t actually hate any of them. Still, people constantly remind me that because they loved their siblings so much, every person in the world should have a few. Hereâ€™s the thing: you may be lying to yourself and itâ€™s possible youâ€™re viewing the past through rose colored specs. My brother and I only became close as adults. That guy was a total douche as a kid, and I bet he would say the same about me. Thereâ€™s a little truth to the clichÃ©d bumper sticker wisdom that says that your family isnâ€™t necessarily the people youâ€™re related to; right now Iâ€™ve only netted relationships with 1/3 of my siblings. Thatâ€™s not a good average.