The one about kids.

So, kids. Let's talk about kids today.

Anyone who has known me for more than a week or so knows my stance on kids. The conversation I have with a new acquaintance eventually steers into this direction (presumably because I'm twenty-eight years old and newly married): 

Them: So do you have kid--

Me: Nope.

Them: Oh.

Sometimes people respect and understand that. Sometimes they can't wrap their head around it and they demand reasons and/or try to convince me that I'll change my mind one day (and that I'll regret it if I don't have them) (seriously, ladies, most annoying statement ever). Most of the time those people ask questions that they have no business asking. 

Are you going to have them? Don't you want them? What about your husband? Why?

First of all, stop talking to me like I'm broken.  Secondly, the answers, in their respective orders, follow. Not planning on it. Not really. He feels the same way I do (we did talk about these things pre-nuptial, you know). And because (not that it's any of your business) I think children should be brought into this world because they're wanted, not because kids are "the next logical" step in a marriage, not because someone has been ignorant in regards to the plethora of birth control options out there, and not because a relationship is irrevocably screwed up and it's the last chance for normalcy. Call me cynical, but I believe about half (and I'm guessing conservatively, mind you) of the births that occur are due to one of those three reasons. Kids deserve better circumstances than that. They deserve love and choice and commitment.

Delving a little deeper into the why question, and I'm being 100% honest with you guys here, I am a selfish person sometimes. I'm a newlywed, and I am still starry-eyed and blissfully in love with J, and I want him to myself right now and for the foreseeable future. In addition to that, as I've mentioned previously, I fully enjoy alone time. I have plenty of unwritten words inside of me and piles of unconsumed media surrounding me; I do not get bored. I don't feel as if anything is missing from my life. I'm whole.

Now, that being said -- I adore kids. I do. Promise. Ask any of my friends who have kiddos, despite my 6-month aversion to holding them while they're still scrunchy-faced and fragile newborns who lack neck control, I coo and I squeal and I pregnant-belly-rub (with the mother's permission, of course) and I compulsively buy baby-shower gifts with the best of them. I am down for coloring books and puzzle time and peek-a-boo and video games and action figure dudes all day long. Hell, fairly recently, a friendship I'd had for years came to a screeching halt and I miss the kid more than I miss the parent. True story.

I get why people want kids, so I don't ask them why they choose to have them. They're fun to be around, and they're full of wonder and innocence and hilarity.  You couldn't buy better entertainment. I'm sure it's a fulfilling event, to create this tiny little person and then watch them learn and grow over the years, to see their personalities develop, to guide them through highs and lows. Parenting is hard work and if all goes well then you can rest assured and be proud of the fact that you've raised a productive member of society. I get it. It's remarkable and I commend those of you who have kids and who are selfless super parents.

I just wish people would stop nagging me about why I don't want them. I'm not saying it'll never change, because there's a reason that the term "ticking biological clock" exists (and there's a reason I've got names in mind for both sexes, just in case), but right now, I'm great, thanks. Bring the kid over when you and the hubs need a date night -- I can handle it for a few hours (as long as J is here; he's more maternal than I am) -- but I'm not ready to full-on commit to a tiny helpless being who is completely dependent on me for life. 

...plus, I mean, I've got a lot of kick-ass toys and I'm not willing to share those just yet.

But you know. Maybe some day.

In the future.

Maybe.