Kids

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• July 25, 2016

The late 20’s female is scorned when she says she doesn’t want children.  People are horrified, and convinced you’ll change your mind, as if being childless is a dreadful fate for a woman.  I once dated a guy specifically because he had a boat.  I didn’t care for him at all, but he had a boat I like going out on, and people seem to understand that.  Dating someone because they have a boat is a shitty moral decision (he was also hot, though), but not wanting kids doesn’t make someone a heartless monster (a lot of other reasons do, though).

Kids can be fun, sure… But they’re also messy, exhausting, disease carrying, sleep ruining, money sieves.  You may say kids are the best part of your life, but have you ever been to Iceland?  How about killed in 2000 person theater (I mean with comedy, not actual murder to be clear)?  Had a drug fueled night on fire island?  Written a script with someone you idolize?  Surf Hawaii?  I don’t know… I have a pretty good life.  A broke, uncertain, manic life, which suites me.  It would be hard for a baby to make it in the top five, to be honest.

Most of the future is uncertain, but I can say, almost certainly, I will not have kids.  There are moments my maternal instinct will make me believe I want kids.  There’s something to be said about your animal instincts.  They are strong, engraved in your DNA.  There’s been times I found myself in a baby section at a Target fawning over their little clothes, or fighting the incredible urge to kiss some babies head in a carriage in Central Park.  Yes, the thought, “I need a baby,” sneaks in to my subconscious from time to time.  But it feels misplaced, and it only lasts a moment before I realize, “what the fuck are you doing here?” and it vanishes.  My maternal hormones will, on occasion, slip it into my thoughts, but I’m telling you, I don’t want children.  It’s like when I see a really sexy guy who is also a huge moron.  There’s an animal instinct that is attracted to him, but I have no interest in being with an idiot.

This instinct isn’t just for my own never to be born children.  Often times, on the subway, when a mother boards the train with a stroller or young kids, I immediately, without thinking, survey the car for sketchy characters.  And if there’s anyone I think seems suspicious, I eye them the whole time.  I would actually kill someone if they tried to hurt a child. I’m not the only one who does this.  I see other women eyeing the same potential creeps as I do all the time.

It’s not that I don’t like kids.  Well, I don’t like most kids, because they still fall under the category of “people” which I tend to have a problem with.  But in many scenario’s, I probably like your kid more than I like you.

At the laundromat, my dirty clothes tossed in the machine as I read my book.  There was a mother with her two young children doing several loads.  She looked exhausted, as moms do.  That hungover without booze look.  If I’m hungover, I like it to be because of booze, yet another reason to remain childless.  Her daughter was about four or five, and she had a toddler son, probably about two.  The little girl spoke Spanish with her mother, and the little boy giggled and babbled, having more fun at the laundromat than anyone has ever had a laundromat.  The kids played together for some time, but then the girl grew tired of her baby brother, and went to her mother’s side.  The boy, with a single brown curl on his forehead, and large, expressive brown eyes, caught me smiling at him.  With me as his audience, he started a game of peek-a-boo and my book was ignored as I found myself goofing with this adorable child.

When my clothes dried, I shoved them into my bag, and then I turned to my little friend and waved goodbye.  His face changed from a glowing grin to dismay.  For a moment, I thought he might actually cry.

“Okay,” I said, “goodbye, now,” and I wanted to give the kid a hug, but you can’t just give stranger’s kids hugs.  As I was walking out of the laundromat, I heard the mother yelling in Spanish.  I turned around, and the kid had followed me out of the laundromat.

Shit.  I’m accidentally kidnapping a child!

“No.  Stay.  Sit.”  I commanded.  And his sister came, and pulled him by the arm back to his kin.

He reminded me of my nephew.  Those big brown eyes.

This is not actually a rare occurrence for me.  Diners, subways, beaches, airports, kids tend to be drawn to me, and I’ve never really been quite sure why.

I’d been a babysitter for a long time.  I mostly worked for one family on Long Island who had four kids.  I started when the first child was just a baby.  Three boys and a girl.  This family I wouldn’t just work for, but I’d become very close to them.  Once, I was watching the little girl when she was maybe four, and she said, “you’re not the boss, Lori.  I’m the boss.”
“Okay, boss.  Then, what are we doing today?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed, “bosses don’t really know what they’re doing.”
I laughed so hard, and then she laughed too, having no idea how funny her statement was.

Another time, I took the youngest boy to some children’s event at the library.  Basically, it was just a bunch of kids having a snack, and someone read them a book.  I don’t recall the name of the book but, it was about this spoiled little girl who was making demands of her family, and she was super bratty, and I was confused as to what the moral of this book was supposed to be.  The boy tapped my arm, and I turned to him.  “Lori,” he whispered, “what… is this?”
I burst into laughter.  That was the exact appropriate response, and I had to keep it together so to not disturb this junior reading group.

Stop shaming the childless women.  We’re not wrong to not want kids, even if we like kids.  There are a lot things I love I shouldn’t have (all the time, anyway): ice cream, drugs, dangerous hikes, Cormac McCarthy novels.  My unborn children are too good for this fearful, brainwashed world.  While I very much enjoy the company of my nephew, and some other kids, I revel in freedom and solitude.  The two things I am never willing to sacrifice.

And to be fair… those of you with kids… you’re constantly telling me they’re the best part of your life, in between complaining about your kids.