I can imagine
This afternoon I had coffee with two girlfriends, one of whom is 3 months pregnant (she just told me yesterday) and the other who has a one year old. After coffee, the newly-pregnant friend left to meet her husband, and I joined the mama, her husband, and son for dinner at a local BBQ place that has a children's play area. The play area and surrounding portion of the restaurant were packed with toddlers, their infant siblings, and their weary parents, who took turns monitoring the play area while their spouses drank beer and reveled in the luxury of sitting down to eat.
We talked about our friend, newly-pregnant to us, and about my lack of interest in having kids, and about the oft-perceived, sometimes-expressed differences between "people with kids" and "people without kids." I said that I couldn't imagine my life without my friends' kids in it. Which is almost true--my friends' kids are, for the most part, hundreds if not thousands of miles away. As I have a day job and am not independently wealthy, visiting these kids on a regular basis is an impossibility. In actuality, I am doing more than imagining my life without my friends' kids in it--I am living my life, most days, without my friends' kids in it. And that makes me sad.
Which returns me to the matter of this friend, this night, at this restaurant with this kid, this year-old boy crawling at a good clip. There is undoubtedly a difference in the lifestyles, at least, of "people with kids" and "people without kids." Maybe in our constitutions, innate or cultivated. But I was prompted, by my friend's comment, to consider the "difference" between our two "types" as yet another example of dualistic thinking--I am like this, you are not me, therefore you are like that, we are different, insert judgment here.
The more that my friends have kids (and I am definitely moving into the minority in some of my circles), the more this is relevant. Are we so different that we can't enjoy a meal together? The better question: Am I flexible enough to be able to enjoy a meal differently? The three-hour, three-bottle dinners of last year have been replaced for the time being with a different mode of eating. Can I imagine my life differently enough to enjoy the very transient moment of this toddler's current fascination with ice cubes? And what am I missing if I can't?
We talked about our friend, newly-pregnant to us, and about my lack of interest in having kids, and about the oft-perceived, sometimes-expressed differences between "people with kids" and "people without kids." I said that I couldn't imagine my life without my friends' kids in it. Which is almost true--my friends' kids are, for the most part, hundreds if not thousands of miles away. As I have a day job and am not independently wealthy, visiting these kids on a regular basis is an impossibility. In actuality, I am doing more than imagining my life without my friends' kids in it--I am living my life, most days, without my friends' kids in it. And that makes me sad.
Which returns me to the matter of this friend, this night, at this restaurant with this kid, this year-old boy crawling at a good clip. There is undoubtedly a difference in the lifestyles, at least, of "people with kids" and "people without kids." Maybe in our constitutions, innate or cultivated. But I was prompted, by my friend's comment, to consider the "difference" between our two "types" as yet another example of dualistic thinking--I am like this, you are not me, therefore you are like that, we are different, insert judgment here.
The more that my friends have kids (and I am definitely moving into the minority in some of my circles), the more this is relevant. Are we so different that we can't enjoy a meal together? The better question: Am I flexible enough to be able to enjoy a meal differently? The three-hour, three-bottle dinners of last year have been replaced for the time being with a different mode of eating. Can I imagine my life differently enough to enjoy the very transient moment of this toddler's current fascination with ice cubes? And what am I missing if I can't?
Labels: childless dualistic toddler
posted by Slyvia at
6:30 PM
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