Why People Are Obsessed With Their Kids
Just a few years ago, I convinced myself that if I ever had kids, I wouldn’t talk about them incessantly. The universe abounds with other topics, many of which won’t thoughtlessly annoy people who don’t (or can’t) have kids.
Then I had them and learned that those fascinating topics are still out there, I just can’t access them because my brain is mush. No one warned me that they do that. In fact, a lot of things were left out:
They: Once you give birth, you’ll forget all about the pain.
Me: I’ll make them pay.
They: Take time to play with your kids and enjoy them.
Me: I don’t enjoy playing with my kids. Their games are dumb, and the three year old criticizes my sand building.
They: Take lots of pictures!
Me: They stole my phone.
They: Write down the cute things they say.
Me: I don’t even write down the cute things I say.
They: No screen-time.
Me: I’m not firing the iNanny.
They: Don’t yell at them. Then they won’t listen if you need to yell.
Me: Since I mostly communicate by yelling, they can tell the difference between imminent danger and mom stepping on a Lego.
They: Feed them a variety of healthy foods.
Me: Everything in Pittsburgh has fries stuffed in it.
They: Babies are so beautiful!
Me: He looks like a chicken wing.
They: You’ll love your children more than all else.
Me: I love my family, and we are equal parts to a whole. A happy home doesn’t quantify love.
They: Your children come first.
Me: My health comes first. Then the health of my marriage. Then the rest falls into place. A team needs the best coaches
They: You can’t travel with kids.
Me: We go everywhere with them. They love 29 cent lollipops at gas stations, running around rest stops, and Happy Meals for lunch.
They: Get the kids on a schedule.
Me: We have one on a schedule. The other is destined to work night shifts.
They: Just another 18 years to go!
Me: I’m sure they’ll be emancipated by 16.
It seems like people obsessively talk about their kids, but that’s because children rob people of the ability to think, focus, or remember. They’re all that’s left in their parent’s brain, so their moms and dads talk about them out of default. I don’t regret the trade, just wish I had known about it first.
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| (Just sitting in the car and staring for 20 minutes before I get out.) |