I never met a man I looked at and thought “I have such a huge, aching love for you inside me that the only way possible to illustrate the strength of that is to have your baby. I want your baby, I love you that much.” Which is kind of how I imagined you would know you were supposed to have kids.
And that is my ‘Reasons why I don’t have kids’ #10.
I would teach them to say thank you to the Gods of everything, every day. For example the Gods of Sudocrem, fishfingers and beans, the Gods of colouring pencils, wellie boots and Ladybird books.
Because of this, they would be called weirdos by their classmates and probably get bullied a bit. Which, speaking from experience, isn’t very nice at all, and so this is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #9.
I would be the worst kind of embarrassing parent. You see, I sometimes have to fight an overwhelming urge to lick beautiful arms attached to male humans. I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about. No? Just me then.
I’ve only actually done it on two occasions. Both involved a cocktail, a dare and a post-lick winning smile.
Well, I say ‘winning’, one went well, the other, not so much……
So now, imagine if one of the male humans attached to the arm I decided to lick, happened to be a hot papa at the school gates? My kids would have to leave that school immediately due to chronic embarrassment and would probably divorce me, in the style of a Hollywood child star. And I wouldn’t want to be divorced TWICE.
And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #13.
On the whole I like to think that I am a nice, positive, amiable person. But it is true that, on occasion I am not and am instead in a very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON. Like today for example.
And when I am in said very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON I like to pretty much ignore the entirety of the human race. (More for their safety and wellbeing than mine), and because they mostly annoy the freaking sh*t out of me – also, for no good reason apart from me being in a very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON – and so for everyone involved, it is best that I pretend none of them exist.
Now, if I had children, I would not be able to revel in the very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON and wallow in self-pity for several hours of the day, because children demand time and attention and if mummy was fuming, this would not be good and probably I would be raising them alone, (and that my friends, is a WHOLE other post),and so could not send them to bother their father while I stewed.
They would inevitably also ask, “but Mummy, why are you in such a very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON?” and I would say, “No reason”, and genuinely mean that and then that would confuse them and they would wander around the house aimlessly scratching their innocent little heads and wondering why I was in a very, VERY bad mood for NO. GOOD. REASON. They would probably also assume they had been bad and it was their fault and then they would carry that with them for ever and have to see a shrink when they grew up to talk about their feelings of guilt and responsibility.
So, not wanting to burden my children with a lifetime of guilt and shrink bills is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #8.
Because I would tell my daughters they were beautiful all the time and they would say, ‘but Muuuuum we’re not, we need the boob deodorant and we just want a lettuce leaf for tea.’ And I would make them meat and two veg. I would also ban all gossip magazines and television from my home and my daughters would hate me for it and run away to a place they could freely see Kim Kardashian (that was actually in the predictive text), spouting about her post baby workout (Lipo) and look at the ‘circles of shame’ around post-gym sweaty pits and cellulite.
And for this reason I would be a terrible mother to daughters and that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #7.
Because Mums know everything and are always right. FACT. See my ‘Things I learnt in 2013’…
And I don’t and I am not. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
I sometimes misjudge the simple things, like what time I need to leave the house to get to work on time. When I say sometimes, read always. I take too much time to think about the little things (what shoes should I wear with these jeans) ah, sh*t, now I’m going to be uncomfortable all day. Pizza or pasta, a fifty percent chance of getting it right. “Goddam it, I wanted tortellini FFS“.
I do not know how to say, ‘if only I’d known he was an *rseh*le’ in Spanish. Important. I was not right about the name of the royal baby, I put a bet on Mason Tyler Leroy Alexander. I was not right about Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis staying together forever. Heartbreaking turn of events Johnny, heartbreaking. I do not know how to climb trees or how to keep plants (OR guinea pigs) alive. I was wrong to think that Kanye West was in fact the second coming, and it turns out he’s just a plain old w*nker who is disillusioned enough to believe that’s the case*. I was incorrect to think the BBC would come to their senses this year and finally put Sir Bruce Forsyth out to pasture, to live out his days basking in the (limited) sunshine and chewing on hay. And I was wrong about the weather today. I was freezing.
So, you see, I couldn’t be a mum because on the application form for mum-dom there is a box that asks you:
‘Do you know everything and always make right decisions because this is imperative to the wellbeing of your child/children?’ and my answer would be no. Because I’m at the very least, an honest person.
So, my inability to know everything and always be right is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #6
*Please stop talking Mister West.
I spend a lot of time gazing at newly purchased, beautiful shoes. I also put them on and take them off repeatedly, I walk around in them a bit, just to check they are still as beautiful and sexy on, as they are off. Usually, thankfully, they are.
Now, if I had children I would probably temporarily forget they were there, which would be terrible!! Obviously. This process of putting on, taking off, walking around and admiring in mirrors is almost meditative, and I disappear completely into my own, ‘are the shoes still beautiful and sexy? Aaahh, yes they are’ world. I have been known to lose minutes, nay hours and, no exaggeration, sometimes even whole days; putting on, taking off and admiring.
The poor children unwittingly involved in this situation would probably end up feral as they failed to capture my attention, and had to begin hunting and gathering the likes of CocoPops, turnips, cheese triangles and teabags and possibly eyeing up the pets, in order to survive. And I would not feel at all comfortable thrusting that upon them.
Although, on a positive note, they’d be more than prepared for the zombie apocalypse….. Every cloud.
My unhealthy shoe obsession is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #5
I’m an incredibly talented time waster (see previous post) and children would only serve to cramp this remarkable and rare ability and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. You see, there is in fact absolutely NO time to waste when you have children; unless you have mastered space/time continuum, have discovered a wormhole which you are keeping a secret (which you shouldn’t, because this could be a LOT of fun for others too. Like a giant, inter-galactic slide), or have a TARDIS.
A perfect illustration of my ability to time waste is like the time that I started daydreaming once, a long time ago in my youth. Let’s see, I think I remember it was more or less the end of May 1989, about the time I was finishing school after my A-Levels. Then, all of a sudden, I was two weeks from my fortieth birthday!! How AMAZING is that?? Twenty two years wasted, in a blink of an eye, no effort involved at all. Not just anyone can do that. Nope!
(I have to very reluctantly admit though, that these two weeks were mostly spent drunk, sobbing, looking back at the things I hadn’t done that I should have done, like save money, ANY money, buy a house, start a pension, own a car, plan my funeral. You know, normal, everyday grown-up things), because that would detract from the celebratory nature of this entry.
So, my point is, when you are blessed with such a special gift as this, you must do everything humanly possible, within your power to preserve it, and that is my “reasons why I don’t have kids” #4.
My life has been, periodically, like a telenovela. **sigh*
I can barely get my own sh*t organised.
Take for example, yesterday. My first day back to work. Understand that I had been on holiday since the 23rd December, I had also had a whole week back in Barcelona before I had my first class, which did not start until 2pm, TWO PM IN THE AFTERNOON. At 1.45pm, I was running around the apartment in my underwear in a blind panic, like a chicken that had lost it’s head AND had a broken USB stick. The USB in question, is the one I like to call ‘Bible’. You can easily imagine the gravity of a situation in which the Bible is suddenly broken. All manner of Hell is let loose and armageddon is not far behind (and not the cool kind where Bruce Willis turns up all guns blazing, re-establishes connection and delivers my documents out of the printer he happens to have in his Saving the World kit, while ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing‘ plays in the background). I had a raft of printing to do and exactly minus 10 minutes to get dressed, get the stick working, do my make-up, pack my school bag – no really – go to the printers and arrive at work unruffled.
Admittedly, I was updating the blog. I do take full responsibility.
…….. but, nonetheless, I was late to my first class of the term, in which my students, for the first time in their lives, were bang on time.
Now, imagine that scenario with two children of different ages, breakfast needs and schools, thrown into the mix. Maybe some poo is involved, one is sobbing for no apparent reason and they are fighting because one has eaten the other one’s homework. Oh no wait, that’s the dog. Of course I’m exaggerating (a little) but anyway, my point is, it can’t be done unless you possess super human powers. Which I don’t and that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #2.
*Cr*p, is that the time?!
The Secret Diary of Anne Pank 