being a mom
If I Give You All The Reasons I’m Not Having More Kids, Will You Stop Asking?
- I love my money.
Kids practically eat money. I knew that when I signed up for kid one, but I didn’t fully understand it until I realized she’d be hanging around until she was at least 18. Diapers are expensive. So are soccer lessons, dance classes, and Girl Scouts. Later: iPhones and the clothes you buy in that one store at the mall that smells like a desperate middle school dance. Much later: college. I swore when I graduated with an auto loan’s worth of debt that my daughter would not have to. To make that happen, I need to not keep multiplying. One kid can go to Harvard. Two can go to UT. Three have to stick to Austin Community College. Any more than that and they need to learn a trade.
- I hate pregnancy.
So, so much. I already touched on this in my article about Baby Amnesia, but to reiterate: I would rather perform my own pelvic exam in Randall’s than ever be pregnant again. I would rather watch Rush Limbaugh and Governor Perry do a variation of vaginal knitting for 8 hours against the entire Nickelback discography than ever be pregnant again.
- I am a terrible person.
I am positive that I would play favorites and/or resent a new baby. Of course, people assure me that this isn’t true, because they don’t know my life. We moronically got a puppy a few years ago and I still secretly resent him for being a little needs vacuum. Obviously, I know a dog is not a baby. That’s the point. A baby is a dog magnified by a kerjillion. One of my friends has three kids, and I know that she is being sincere and honest when she tells me she does not play favorites. She is a good person. I am not. I am a terrible person.