I recently learned that a friend of mine whom I have known since we were in first grade is pregnant, and I was seriously weirded out because we're the same age. A little over a year ago she got married, and we were the same age, and I was weirded out then as well. When I confessed my feelings to my mother, she blithely informed me that she was the same age that I am now when she had me, and I damn near had a conniption.
I do not feel like an adult. I'm in my twenties, I understand things like mortality and object permanence, and I do in fact ovulate on a monthly basis, yet I still feel like a kid. My friend is married and about to have a baby, and as I type this sentence I am watching an old episode of
Gargoyles on my computer and enjoying the shit out of it. I am a grown-ass woman sincerely and unironically deriving pleasure from a 90's-era Disney cartoon about winged purple lizard-beasts protecting New York from evildoers. Clearly there has been some kind of developmental discrepancy between the two of us.
It isn't just my piddling estimation of my own maturity; babies creep me out. They're weird-looking, smelly, and sticky. Disgusting substances are constantly spewing forth from their every orifice. They make unsettling noises, often for hours on end for no discernible reason and with no way to make them stop. They require constant attention lest they do some kind of calamitous mischief to themselves. From my point of view, carrying and delivering a baby seems like a horrific and excruciating act that leaves one permanently mutilated, and I can't fathom why any sane person would choose to do such a thing to themselves. However, lots of people have the same opinion of tattoos, body piercing, and that surgery you can get to make your ears pointy (which I desperately wish I could afford [I'm only half-kidding]), so I obviously don't know anything.
But more than any of that, I would just plain be a terrible parent without even meaning to. I'd try to be a good, supportive, wise mum but I would fail, for the following reasons:
1.
I don't care about swearing in front of children. I mean, when I am in the presence of children I try not to let fly with my usual verbal typhoon of filth the likes of which would make a shipyard worker blush, but every so often a "damn" or a "hell" or a "shittittycockballs" will slip out. When that happens I make an awkward face and apologize to the parent, but secretly I'm not sorry at all.
2.
I don't care about nutrition or exercise. You know what I had for dinner tonight? A sloppy joe, half a can of salt and vinegar Pringles, and two Cadbury creme eggs. I do a lot of swimming, bike riding, and even the occasional run, but I don't do these things out of any motivation to take care of my body; I do them because they're fun. When I go running I usually pretend I'm outrunning an explosion or being chased by dingoes. When I ride my bike, I pretend I'm riding on a galloping steed who is also outrunning an explosion. When I swim, I pretend to be a mermaid outswimming an underwater explosion. Once I get bored with these activities, that'll be it. Keep an eye out for me on Dateline, they'll do a story about me because I'll be too fat to get out of bed and I probably won't look very good on TV because the only way I'll be able to bathe is by scrubbing myself with a rag on the end of a yardstick.
3.
I am terrible at planning things.
4.
I am terrible at finding things.
5.
I am terrible at untying knots.
6.
I am terrible at remembering directions and I get lost all the time.
7.
I am just kind of terrible in general.
8.
I would be a weird mix of negligent and overprotective with my hypothetical children. If they're doing something dangerous like, for instance, playing with the blender, it wouldn't occur to me to correct this behavior. I would simply say, "Hey, if they get hurt, they'll learn their lesson and they'll never play with sharp mechanical things again," and I'd think that that was smart parenting. Yet, if my kids were bullied at school or something, I would lose no time in rounding up some fire ants and setting out to take down the little snotnose monster that dared mess with my babies.
9.
I make jokes about attacking children with fire ants.
10.
One time I had a sex dream wherein I was having a three-way carnal encounter with Andy Serkis and Doug Jones, and they were both in character--like, every single character they'd ever played, at the same time--and I don't think that the sort of person who has such dreams ought to be around children.
11.
I have no patience to speak of. Even sitting through the commercials when I watch TV is a severe strain on me.
12.
Ever since I saw the Tim Burton remake of
Planet of the Apes, I've been trying to teach myself to write legibly with my toes. Again, that sort of person should not be around children.
13.
I am not good at managing money, in the sense that I will do anything to not spend it on anything but books. "New shoes? The hell! Leroy, you already have a pair of shoes, what do you need another one for? That's just craziness. Shut up and help me carry all these shopping bags into the house. Hells yeah, Barnes&Nobles had a sale! I bought you another copy of
Coraline! Well, what if something happens to the other six? Use your brain!"
14.
Sometimes I start singing for no reason. Not in a cute, quirky, Zooey Deschanel kind of way. In a 'oh, bless her heart' kind of way.
14 1/2.
Sometimes I start dancing for no reason. Personally I think I have killer moves and a slammin' bod with which to perform them, but I can see how other, ignorant people might find such behavior to be embarrassing or inappropriate.
15.
If I had a kid and my dog bit them, I'd get rid of the kid because I trust my dog's judgement. Clearly that kid was bad news.
16.
I never go to bed on time.
17.
I like to knit but I can't do it very well so I just knit scarves.
18.
To research this entry I went to Google to find out what a breast pump is. NO THANK YOU.
19.
I could not give up booze and smoking for nine months. Well, I'm pretty sure I
could, but I don't
want to.
20.
I'd give my kid a really weird name, like Lysander or Destino.
Clearly, the reasons I must never raise a baby human are numerous. I am tired now, so I'll end the list at twenty. That's a nice round number, damn it.
