The Kids Are Overrated

In a way, you’ve really got to hand it to Rick Santorum. Plenty of the GOP candidates (all, I’m tempted to say?) have pretty horrific shit to say on the subject of homosexuality and same-sex marriage, but some of them, when confronted by an actual homosexual person, freeze up and shut down in such a way that you wonder if their vision has actually just flashed to the blue screen of death (side-note, I once disconnected the mouse and keyboard from a decidedly not tech-savvy coworker’s computer and set that image as her screen saver, and put a fake memo into her mailbox from the tech people saying that a virus had been going around and if that such an error occurred, to NOT RESTART. Ah, memories). We remember, of course, Christine O’Donnell walking off of the set of an interview when asked a question about gay marriage, and Michele Bachmann first fleeing for her life from two elderly lesbians and later stunned to silence by an 8-year-old telling him that his mommies didn’t need fixing. Santorum, on the other hand, has proven his willingness to be just as insulting and offensive to a gay person’s face as he would behind their back.

Recently, while Santorum was fielding questions after a speech, a gay man politely stood up and said something to the effect of, “Pardon me, your frothiness, but who are you to tell me I don’t have the right to get married?” And rather than freezing up, Santorum gave an interesting response. He started with the same bullshit that Michele Bachmann has been known to toss out about gays having precisely the same marriage rights as everyone else – the right to get married to people of the opposite sex, which is like saying that I have the right to eat anything I want as long as it’s poo. He went on to try to offer a sort of explanation for the social benefit of opposite-sex marriage, which is that when people of the opposite sex get together, babies pop out, and they’re trying to reward people for having babies by giving them marriage rights.

OK, let’s skip past all the obvious stuff. Let’s skip past the fact that the world is grossly over-populated and we don’t need more starving children. Let’s skip past the fact that there are many gay couples who would love to take care of the children that don’t have parents taking care of them, but the GOP doesn’t want to let that happen. Let’s skip past the fact that no one asks heterosexual couples to sign a pledge to have X number of children before they’re allowed to get legally married. These are all things that we already know and that they already aren’t listening to; instead, I want to take a step back and question the assumption he’s based his argument on – that there is an “intrinsic good” in having children.

I disrespectfully disagree.

Don’t get me wrong, kids are cute, and they can be a lot of fun for brief periods of time, but the appeal wears off quickly for me. I was at the mall with my partner earlier tonight, and there were children everywhere. They were running around the dark parking lot begging to be struck by cars. They were lying down in the middle of paths I believe were clearly intended for walking. And then there was the play area where there was a veritable horde of them penned in, screaming and bouncing off the walls like a biblical plague waiting to be unleashed, and I wanted to run in the other direction before whatever mechanism holding them inside gave way.

Seriously, what is it that we find so great about children? They’re loud. They hurt themselves and break things if you don’t keep an eye on them. I’ve never met a single one that got a job and earned its keep. If you had a roommate like this, you would kick them the fuck out of your house. And yes, I know, I was a child once, which is how I know what a destructive lifestyle it is. I sustained a greater number of minor injuries from falls and accidents in the first ten years of my life than I have in my entire life since then. I often stubbornly refused both food and sleep. I completely mooched off of my parents, never contributing a dime. I can honestly say that if I had continued living as I did, I might be dead by now. Thankfully, I had the good sense to give it up.

I’ve had parents explain to me the joy they find in raising children, but it’s not the easiest thing to wrap my head around. They explain to me the fulfillment that comes with investing oneself so fully in the activity and the lasting satisfaction as these little creatures gradually develop with unique, complex personalities which, I suppose, makes it totally worth the years and years of being woken up in the middle of the night by the crying, screaming things, the life-consuming responsibilities and financial drain, and so on and so forth. The thing is, to me, this argument is a little reminiscent of when people have tried to convince me to read the Wheel of Time books, which I’ve tried more than once, and I always feel the same thing. The first chapter is amazing. And then, for a good dozen chapters after that, NOTHING GODDAMN HAPPENS. (All right, this is a slight exaggeration, but it is also only a slight exaggeration to say I’ve read more compelling narratives on placemats at Pizza Hut).

I’ve been advised about the Wheel of Time books that I really should stick it out, or perhaps just start at the second book of the series (in short, no, I should not have to and will not do this) because it gets really amazing by the fourth or fifth book. Stop and consider this for a second. You do realize that saying an overall plot gets really exciting around page 3,000 isn’t a good thing, right? Like children, these books strike me as something that will just take way more of my time and energy than I’m willing to give them before it starts to get good.

Really, though, that isn’t entirely an accurate metaphor for the way my friends have described their experiences raising children to me. Rather, they seem to find everything their child does to be INCREDIBLE. Though much of this post may go out on some very shaky limbs, I feel I can speak for many people when I say that none of us are terribly interested that your baby took the most amazing poop this morning. Maybe I did too, but you don’t see me bragging about it. Bet mine was bigger, even.

And when it isn’t such banalities, it’s the long explanations of how advanced the child is with coloring or chewing or crawling. We have all heard (and many of you, I have no doubt, have told) stories after a parent has read that a child is supposed to be making gibberish noises at X months, but their child has started making those same noises two months early! Call fucking Ripley.  Every parent I’ve ever known has told me how much more advanced for their baby was for their age than every other baby that has ever existed, and all I can surmise is that the books and magazines that parents read are designed to give them the impression that their child must be a future rocket scientist. Obviously, some kids are, but we have to be logical about this. If there are super advanced babies, there are also stupid babies, and in the meantime, I struggle to refrain from pointing out to my friends that their tiny little genius seems to be trying to chew its own foot off.

And yes, I said “it”, and I wish I could say that was because I was trying to make the statement applicable to both genders, but the truth is, I’ve been known to accidentally refer to children under the age of three as “it.” When the crying begins, I might suggest to my friend, “Maybe it’s hungry,” for instance. I’m not trying to be rude, it just flows into my speech somewhat naturally. I think my brain has a hard time considering something a person until it is capable of speech, and I don’t mean just repeating words like a parrot, I mean holding a conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not condoning fourth trimester abortions, but there’s something missing in those first few years for me, and it isn’t the size. My iPad seems comparatively much more capable and self-aware than an infant. It tells me when it needs to be fed, it knows better than stick utensils in its soft places, and it doesn’t shit itself.

I suppose there is something to be said, though, for the not being able to talk part. The sooner they can talk, the sooner they can lie. I recall a time when I was driving with my friend in the passenger seat and her toddler in the back seat with a juice bottle, which dropped with a splashy thud and proceeded to gush out. “Oops,” I heard him remark. “A question, lad,” I began, “Did you happen to just spill your juice?” And with a wry smile, he answered, “Nope!” I turned to my friend after a few moments of silence and pointed out “The boy seems to be lying,” to which she shrugged, “Yeah, he does that.” It’s like she’s raising a republican!

Perhaps that is why Republicans seem to have such an obsession with newborn babies, they see their own intellectual maturity reflected in those pudgy, giggling faces. Come to think of it… Gingrich really does kind of look like a giant baby. Coincidence?

I think not.

RC