It’s all right not to have kids

Who wouldn't want one?
Who wouldn't want one?

By coincidence I happen to have several women friends all of whom are in their mid-forties, are recently (within the last couple of years) married, and are all either having children or attempting to have them. As you might expect, the ones having babies have had some assistance from modern medicine (twins, anyone?), at times with measures that could be described as extreme, expensive, and even painful. The ones who are still trying are also going through these same things, just without success yet.

I got married when I was 27, which isn’t young but isn’t old. We had JP when I was 33, which again isn’t young (my mother was 21 when she had my older brother) but isn’t particularly old, either. Getting my ex pregnant didn’t prove difficult, the pregnancy was normal, and the delivery was routine (if any birth can be described that way). So, bear in mind that I am aware that I have no room to express the opinion that I am about to express.

Here’s the thing: these women are all extremely successful career women; some of them have husbands who already have children, or who didn’t really want children. They have lives. They traveled and worked through their twenties and their thirties and even their forties. Yet now, somehow, when some women are plotting their retirement and harassing their children about grandchildren, now, a baby has become a pressing life priority. They would be “devastated” if the thousands of dollars they are spending on invasive, risky procedures don’t succeed in bringing them a child for whom they will need to attend his or her college graduation with the assistance of a walker.

Again, I have a child, so who am I to judge, right? And, of course, society says women simply must procreate. Freely stipulated, members of the jury (not judging). But how can they be devastated? They were of child bearing age for decades and now they’re devastated? Someone please help me relate.

When my ex and I were trying to have a baby, I don’t think either of us had a particularly strong drive to have a child. The time seemed right, our careers were reasonably underway, we didn’t have tremendous debts, we owned a house–it just seemed like what you do. I always told myself that if it didn’t work, well no big deal. More money for us.

A typical reaction to this sentiment is that I’m a man and I don’t know what it feels like to want or need a child. This is an odd kind of bunkum in this modern era. Again, we’re talking about confident, busy, career-oriented women who made no effort to have children–and dating in the hopes of meeting “the one” doesn’t count in my book–for years and years. Does that make them men? Isn’t the notion of a furiously ticking “biological clock” sexist and condescending?

Finally, I hope that all of these women are able to conceive. They strike me as capable parents and should have what they want. But, ladies, it’s okay if it doesn’t happen. Really.

Making Bubbles under Water

From the original book
From the original book

(A quick hit of Joachim Ringelnatz; you can read a bit more about him and my foolish attempts at translation here)

Making Bubbles under Water
(Unter Wasser Bläschen machen)

Kids, a puzzle! Listen up!
Solve it and you’ll get some money. How can
One make bubbles under water?
You have to try this–absolutely–
In the tub. And when you solve this puzzle
You will laugh.

The end of BFF

God love the Times for continuing to throw these kinds of stories out there. The world that gets described in their parenting stories is so dystopian and over-the-top–“friendship coaches” to help kids socialize, schools trying to keep kids from having best friends because it can lead to cliques–that I get caught up and anxious for a moment. And then I remember that it’s all bullshit, nothing more than a claptrap fiction comprising a few self-serving quotes and marginally relevant studies.

I can only hope the bajillion people who will read and Tweet and Digg and FB this (including educators who will be tempted to turn around and outlaw Best Friends in their schools) realize that it’s fake, too.

How Fatherhood Changes You: You Get Older and Sicker, But It Works Out Okay

Christopher is Mimi from La Boheme, apparently in drag
Christopher is Mimi from La Bohème, in drag?

According to Kermyt Anderson and Peter Gray’s new book Fatherhood: Evolution and Human Paternal Behavior (a snappy little read from Harvard University Press), moms aren’t the only ones whose hormones go a little haywire during the early days of being a parent. Dads experience weird (though much milder) fluctuations, too. Among other things, our testosterone levels drop, and our oxytocin levels go up. But I learned something more interesting from the authors in this interview:

In the short term, the lack of sleep and exposure to every new germ on the playground worsens men’s health, but in the long term, fathers seem to live longer, healthier lives than non-fathers.

This, frankly, is unexpected.  We know married men live longer (you’ve heard the old joke: “It just seems longer”) than singles, but shouldn’t the stressors of being a parent–and the associated unhappiness–cut into lifespan? And what about the mild depression that sometimes hits in new-parenthood? Depression is strongly associated with shorter lifespan; apparently it just… stops, at some point, and everyone goes back to being happy and long-lived. Unless they’re simply counting more hours awake as a longer life, in which case my wife and I have just added years to our earthly existence.

As for that temporary dip in one’s health, that, at least, is no surprise at all. I took more sick days this year than in the preceding decade, and cannot believe the foul diseases that came home with me from daycare. Not that my son got sick; that place must be the best immune-booster in New York City. But me, I was coughing like Mimi in the last act of La Bohème for a couple of months there.