Childfree Confessions, #5 (the kid I do like)

There is actually one child I like, a 5-year-old whom I’ll call Anna. In fact, I spoke about her in a previous post: my friend’s child who is demanding and self-centered.

Ay carumba, is that girl a pistol! But for some reason, she and I have always had a connection. Perhaps it is because her mother and I were so close when Anna was born. Perhaps it is because she was one of the rare children about whom I could honestly say, “Oh, what a pretty baby.” Or perhaps it is because she is exceptionally intelligent. When she was between 2 and 3 years old, I recall being able to have a unexpectedly rational conversation with her. As she has grown and her communication skills have increased, I have found that she and I have many common interests such as reptiles, cats, insects, and anything science. On several occasions, I have been in stores that sell educational toys, and I always find things that I know Anna and I would love -- a terrarium in which to cultivate carnivorous plants, an ant farm, a kit for growing crystals.

Recently my friend noted in her facebook status that she was taking pictures of Anna’s preschool artwork. I commented, “Are you going to post them for us?” What? Did I just type that? Did I just express a genuine interest in some kid’s preschool artwork? Why, yes, I did. And when the work was posted, I looked through the album and made comments. “Tell Anna that I enjoyed looking at her pictures,” I added. (This gives me some hope that if my siblings ever have children, I can at least be a decent aunt. I have often worried about that, and I dread the day that my brother or sister calls me with the news.)

Even so, as much as I enjoy my occasional visits with Anna and express an interest in her life, I surely would not want to be her mother! Bless my friend for her patience.

Meerkat Manor

The Childfree Life has published another piece of my writing called "Watching 'Meerkat Manor' is Like Parenthood." In this essay, I poke a little fun at myself for my bizarre love-hate obsession with "Meerkat Manor," and I relate it to what I imagine my life would have been like if I'd had children.

This is also a bit of a play on another TCFL member's essay, "Visiting Wall Drug is Like Parenthood", so be sure to check out that one too.

I Don’t Want to Be...

…that kind of person. That is what I said about a certain type of parent in my last post. And coincidentally, just a few days after typing those words, I stumbled across someone who exemplified what I would not want to become. I saw an excerpt of her writing while perusing a childfree site, and I actually thought the author was being facetious. I went to the source site to see if this was intended to be serious (it was), and I was dumbfounded by the following quote: “You created life and forever more, you will nurture life. Mothers are almost God-like in that way. And when you carry that force out into the world, you will be awed by the power you have to effect change everywhere. You are now a mother in the world. All hail before you.”

I’ll be the first to admit that I sometimes think too highly of myself. But… wow… just, wow. After I recovered from reading the paragraph above, I remembered something that I recently read in Luke 11:27-28: As [Jesus] said these things, a woman in the crowd raised her voice and said to him, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts at which you nursed!” But he said, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it!”

I found it fascinating that when someone praised the mother of our Savior for giving birth to and nursing him, he immediately shut the person down with the response that it was instead blessed for someone to keep the word of God. What an interesting set of priorities.

And this shall be my priority too. I know what I don’t want to be; instead, I do want to be the kind of person who hears and keeps the word of God.

More About Teenagers

I was at a party primarily for adults (there were a few children who had been relegated to another part of the house), and I was surrounded (blissfully) by people without young children: some childfree, some childless, and some parents of teens or adults. One of the mothers brought her 15-year-old daughter whom I’ll call Greta. Poor Greta was looking a little bored from feeling out of place -- a feeling I know all too well -- and since we now know that I like teenagers, I thought I would strike up a conversation with her. I found her to be a sweet, intelligent, and interesting young woman, and I enjoyed bringing her into the conversation.

To my dismay, however, every so often mom would chime in to either answer for Greta or to tell a story about her. For example, I asked Greta what her least favorite subject was at school. She paused to think for a moment, and her mother jumped right in to answer. I listened politely, but then I turned back to Greta to discuss the topic further.

This is a prime example of why I teach college rather than high school. Even though I encounter plenty of helicopter parents, there are still federal laws that support me in working with students and squeezing their intrusive parents out of the picture when appropriate. This situation is also another reason that I don’t want to be a parent: I don’t want to become that kind of person. (Though it isn’t just helicopter parenting. I also don’t want to develop that sense of entitlement, grandiose self-importance, single-mindedness, and self-centeredness that I witness in many parents. I have watched parenthood turn too many decent and interesting people into narcissistic boors.)

But getting back to my topic… If anyone has advice on how to lovingly, politely, and diplomatically let mom know that I want to hear what her daughter has to say, I would love to hear from you.

Childfree Confessions, #4 (teenagers)

I’m one of those rare people who likes teenagers. Obviously, not all teens -- some of them are disrespectful, irrational, or just plain mean. However, I think that most adolescents do not deserve to be painted with that stereotype.

When I was in college, I worked with the high school youth group at my church. Being shy and not a very good conversationalist, I don’t know that I was a particularly good youth worker, but I did enjoy it. I loved the energy of the teens, and I was quite fond of the girls who were in my small group.

More recently, I have worked with the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship club at my college, at times acting as club advisor or being the guest speaker at one of their group meetings. I have found the students to be receptive to what I have to say, and the students in turn have encouraged me on many occasions.

I think I may have an ability to reach out to the more difficult young people too. During my weekly volunteer work at the local humane society, I am often side-by-side with adolescents who have been sentenced to community service. I have the luxury of not being an authority figure to them, so I am often able to convince them to do something for me or coax some respect out of them more easily than their leaders can. I find that showing the kids some respect -- smiles and hello’s, thank-you’s and excuse-me’s -- truly does go a long way. Some of the kids ask me about my work there, and when they learn that I have been happily giving my time to the shelter every weekend for the past nine years, they seem to see more value in their work… if this lady does this because she wants to, maybe it’s not a “punishment” after all. I recall one incident where a girl complained and disparaged the work for several minutes. Finally, I approached her and very lovingly said, “Please don’t call this ‘ghetto work.’ [her words] What you are doing is really important, and the shelter appreciates it. And even though the animals can’t say it to you, they are grateful for it too. I’m a math professor, so I have a full-time job and don’t need to be here doing these things, but I come every week out of love and because I know it’s important. I just want you to feel good about what you are doing too.” Bless her heart, the girl’s attitude changed completely, and I didn’t hear another complaint. One of her leaders took me aside afterward and thanked me.

My admiration for adolescents and young adults has influenced my choice of profession as a community college professor, and I describe this in an article published on The Childfree Life this week (Why Do I Need a Child When I Already Have 100 'Kids'?). I feel that I get all the perks of being in the lives of those young people without all of the headaches of parenting.

If only I didn’t have to survive pregnancy and all of those early childhood years, perhaps I would have wanted to be a parent (though maybe someday I will be compelled to adopt). But now that I think about it, being a role model or mentor to the scores of teens that I have worked with and will work with is probably far more valuable to society than my being a parent and focusing my energies on just my own one or two kids.

Family Legacy

During my morning run, my mind wandered to my family and to my previous blog post, and I began to think about family legacies. Last time I saw her, one of my aunts on my dad’s side -- a lady from the old school -- expressed concern about the passing on of our family name. She hoped that her nephew’s soon-to-be-born child would be a boy so that “Family X” would live on. (Never mind that I kept my name when I married, and so I am perfectly capable of passing it on if I were to so choose.)

But after that incident, it occurred to me that as Christians, the legacy we pass down should be that of Jesus Christ, not our own. To be concerned about passing on our family name is not only narcissistic, but smacks of idolatry. Yes, we in Family X are a talented group, but our purpose on this planet is to be a light that shines for Christ. Our talent, our mental capabilities, our work ethic, our ability for tolerance… those are all gifts from God and must be used as such. Should God see fit to carry on our family name and heritage, so be it. But our concern should be to leave an inheritance of eternal value, something that glorifies God and not ourselves.

What a Christian Family Should Be

Growing up, I spent a lot of time with my mother’s family. I do love them, but they can be difficult to get along with: old-fashioned, resistant to anything different, sometimes judgmental, and engaged in too much drama… simple things become such a scandal in the family. Though I was a bit of a black sheep among them, I always identified with them because of my familiarity with them. Over the past 12 years or so, I have had several occasions to spend time with my father’s side of the family, and being around them has been like looking into a mirror. Despite the “nurture” of being with mom’s family, I and my siblings are by “nature” like dad’s family.

Prior to my parents’ divorce when I was 18, my mother had an affair with a married man. When the details of this came to light, my mother’s family all but disowned her -- but not until after yelling angry, hurtful things at her or sending her hateful letters of condemnation. The next step was to refuse to speak to her or even be in her presence. At about the same time, my paternal grandmother died. My mother came to the visitation to pay her respects (after all, this had been her mother-in-law for about 20 years), and my father’s family welcomed mom with open arms. There were tears, hugs, and kind words. This woman who had hurt all of us and crushed my father was shown such love by dad and his family. It became more and more clear which side of the family I wanted to identify with.

As you can imagine, much of my mother’s family is not too pleased with me being childfree, although I have been able to deflect much of the judgment by saying that I might adopt someday. Of course, this means that at every family event, my aunt wants to know the status of the adoption. And at every event, I am surrounded by obsessed aunts and cousins doting on all of the babies. I know they all think I’m a bit of a freak.

So when I went to a gathering of my dad's side of the family last weekend, and I knew that my cousin's new baby would be there, I felt a little trepidation. Would someone ask me to hold the baby? Would the baby be the focus of the entire get-together? Would someone suggest that I would/should be "next"? I kept reminding myself that dad's family is not like that. They are accepting, non-judgmental, and rational (doctors, mathematicians, architects, computer programmers, etc.). But I was still nervous.

After I arrived, I realized that none of the other cousins there would be bringing children. One cousin is 35, unmarried, and has no kids. My sister is in a similar situation. A younger cousin is still in high school. Most of the other cousins (who were unable to attend) do not have children. A few of our oldest cousins have children who are now ‘tweens and teens. Ok, so I don’t stand out so much.

At one point in a conversation, my husband said something about us being "done" having children after zero kids. It's no secret, but I sank a little as I held my breath for the fallout. NO ONE in the room even batted an eye. The conversation just carried on as if he had said the most normal thing in the world.

When the baby arrived, of course his grandma wanted to spend a lot of time with her first grandchild. There was a very small amount of baby conversation, but most people just went on about their business. For most of the time, the baby was quiet and in a separate room from everyone as a few people took turns holding him. We cousins (including the baby's mom) had a chance to catch up, and I was pleased to see that the mom did not appear to have placenta brain. Instead, she wanted to talk about things like triathlon training.

So, I am once again grateful to have been surrounded by intelligent, educated, and informed people who are kind and accepting of people for who they are. This is what a Christian family should look like.