bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary



Babies have become an incredibly sore subject for me lately.

I guess they always have been, but the constant badgering about when I'm going to procreate is really starting to drive me nuts.

To be perfectly honest, I don't know if I ever want to have children. Most people I've confided in about this have told me that eventually I will grow up and get over it. I hate that. I don't think there is anything wrong with not having children. Especially at twenty three fucking years old!

There are many reasons I'm not sure about the subject. First being my maturity level, inability to fully commit to things or follow through on everything I set out to do. Then there's the fact that I feel like taking care of a dog is a little too much work sometimes. I mean, she whines for no reason, she's not super sociable and she doesn't always listen the best. However, being that she's a dog, I can give her a gentle kick in the butt as I lock her up in my bedroom for a few minutes of quiet time.

Last I checked, people really frown upon doing that to babies. Apparently, you're also not supposed to kennel train them.

Then there's the money thing. It's not that we're poor. I mean, we own our home and our cars out-right and our cumulative debt is less than $1,400 dollars. We don't exactly live paycheck to paycheck, but when there's an unexpected expense, we usually feel the financial repercussions for a few weeks afterward. If I ever have a kid, I want to give the little fucker everything it needs. I want to be able to pay for field trips and new shoes and piano lessons without suffering. Also, just looking at the price of formula, diapers, wipes, and all the other crap you need to keep an infant alive is enough to make me want to stock up on a years supply of Plan B.

The biggest reason, however, is my mother. I realize that sounds a little strange, it's just... I have the best mother in the entire universe. When I was a little kid, she would let me sit on her lap while she told me stories about a place called the "Enchanted Forrest"--a world where fairy versions of me and my friends lived and played. While she did this, she would draw out intricate maps and portraits to tie into the story. She baked with me ALL THE TIME. She let me go through her make up and would always let me wear her red lipstick. She let me wear her clothes, and sometimes would even play dress up with me. She made sure there was always ice cream in the house and never missed a single concert performance or volley ball game at school. In fact, at 23 years old, she still makes me chicken soup (from scratch) when I get sick.

She's pretty much the epitome of motherhood and womanhood. When you imagine "Supermom", you're imagining the woman who raised me.

And I just can't compete with that. I want to be the kind of mother that I had (again, in the off chance that I decide I want children at all), and I'm not prepared to be that person yet. Maybe at all.

Also, I just feel like it's a super personal fucking decision. I feel like maybe the cashier at the local grocery store should fuck off and mind her own business. I wish that everyone would leave my uterus and my plans for my uterus off of the table and stop treating me like I'm defective because I'm intelligent enough to realize that I'm completely incapable of taking on the responsibility of another human being.

4:21 p.m. - 02.26.13


previous - next

latest entry

about me





random entry

other diaries: