The other guys

A lot of this blog's focus has been on what I've colloquially referred to as "The Breeder Wars". That butting of heads between me and parents who (in my opinion) are products of society's trendy view of child bearing and raising. The ones who I think place too great a demand on the rest of the world, have too much expectation, and have an over inflated sense of success. But today, I'm not talking about them.

There are parents out there that I truly admire. Not because their kids have Montessori or Waldorf educations, not because they only use organic local grass fed hand massaged beef, and not because they're hipsters that make their kids listen to everything on vinyl and shun anything known by more than 50 people. In fact, the parents I admire probably don't get noticed all that much. They blend into the background, minding their own business, doing their own thing. They apologize if they bump into you with the baby carriage, they always make sure their kids are fed/entertained/looked after in the least obtrusive way they can and are just about always mindful of their surroundings. I want to talk about 2 concrete examples of this.

We'll start with J. She and I met online years ago. We don't hang out, we're not the "Oh gosh, we should catch up" types. We check in on each other now and then, we enjoy the occasional conversation when we have the time and inclination. We read each other's blogs (sort of) and we like knowing what the other is up to. We are the quintessential Facebook friends. Last year, while standing in line getting some lunch, I heard a voice that sounded familiar. I looked over and there was J, 7 months pregnant. I had no idea. Despite the fact that J and I aren't in each other's inner circles, in this world of social media information sharing, I was taken aback that a major life event like this was unknown to me. "Well, this is new!" I said, looking at her belly. She explained how she and her spouse had decided not to advertise it publicly online. I don't remember if I thanked her out loud, but an overwhelming sense of respect and admiration came over me. J never cared much for trends or doing what everyone else is doing (one of the reasons why she's awesome) and the fact that she chose not to make her pregnancy into a spectacle was something I admired.

Then there's F and C. They beat the odds when C got pregnant, so this was a "miracle baby" of sorts. F and I worked together for the better part of 2 years (with a small gap in between), so I saw him every day. Not once did he complain about having to be up late, about looking after C when she wasn't doing well, or about the inherent stresses and difficulties of being a new parent. He'd show up for work and trudge through his day, coffee in hand, then go home and look after his family. Whenever I'd see C (either during pregnancy or after the little one was born), I'd always ask how she's doing. She'd give a quick rundown of how things were at home and then gloss over everything, shrug her shoulders and flash a smile as if to say "but you don't want to hear about that!". They talk about the little one and their family life, but they don't make it the one and only focus of every conversation. I find that respectful and refreshing.

My point is that I don't have issues with parents indiscriminately. I don't denounce everyone who has or wants children. There are certain behaviours that I dislike. There are facets of parenthood that I'm far less tolerant of than others. But at the end of the day, there are some parents I can't criticize. They're not be the spotlight parents who are on everyone's radar. They're not sensationalist attention grabbers who either receive unreasonable amounts of attention, or demand it. They are not the the divas, the mom- and dad-zillas. They're the other guys. They're the unsung heroes. They're my friends.

They only come out at night

That's a lyric from one of my favorite bands back from my high school days. It has a purpose, though. The simplest and best tip I can give to my fellow childfree peeps out there when they have things to do, especially during this Holiday season. If you have errands to run, go out as late as you can.

There are many places that are frequented by people with and without children alike, and that includes most stores. And so, if you'd rather not have little ones underfoot while you're doing your shopping, go as late as possible. This is especially true of grocery stores. When I have a big grocery trip to do, I go an hour before closing on a weeknight. The parents are at home, getting the kids fed, their homework done, baths taken, and into bed. You won't have to deal with them at the store. On the flip side, parents who go earlier or on the weekend won't have to deal with our ranks zipping between carts or dodging the kids that can be oh so difficult to wrangle in the candy aisle (I know, I used to be such a kid).

Then there's shopping malls. If you're going to the mall on a Saturday afternoon, you can't expect to not have the place teeming with families. It's the most convenient time of the week for them to be there. And in December? You're just asking for it as there's a line to get onto Santa's lap. So spend the sunny, snowy days on the ski hill and let the moms and dads have the malls. Go in the evening. Going to a restaurant for dinner? Try dinner at 7 instead of 5. You'd be surprised how much of a difference it can make. As a bonus, it'll be less busy so you might get faster service, or a better table.

These tips are always valid but at this time of year, it's easy for all of us to get frazzled. So with a minor schedule adjustment, we can make it easier on everyone!

Can the Grinch please steal my Christmas?

I'm a lapsed catholic. Growing up, my mother would bring us to church twice a year: Christmas Eve, and Easter Sunday. There was little enthusiasm because it was just something we had to do. Naturally, we disliked going to sit in a quiet building sitting on uncomfortable pews listening to a man we didn't know drone on about the lessons of the Bible. To us, Christmas was about presents. My parents tried their best to teach us that we were fortunate because not every boy and girl had presents or even a tree. We were told to appreciate what we had. But the memories of those lessons pale compared to the sight of presents too numerous to fit under the tree and of the hours my mother spent wrapping them. Most prominently of all my memories is how my mother insisted that my brother and I have exactly the same number of packages, and that the total amount spent on our packages was within X number of dollars of each other. If she couldn't make it within that margin, one of us would get a card with money in it (sometimes we both would, with different amounts. She HAD to make quota), with a very intense explanation as to why. To a point, that's reasonable. You don't want to show your kids favoritism, I get it. But the vehemence with which my mother clings to this ideal is frightening, bordering on indoctrinating.

Now, my brother has 2 kids, so they are subject to the same treatment both from their parents, and my mother (my father is quite different, but arguing with my mother would make for a hostile environment. He plays along). From a very young age, these kids are being taught to count presents, and the whole "he/she has more than I do" schtick. It annoys me and it's totally unnecessary. All it's teaching them is a sense of entitlement and expectation, not fairness. Add to that the fact that the kids are being given any and all item that fits their specific niche craze of the moment (Disney princesses and Pixar's Cars, in case you were wondering), whether they ask for it or even know of it's existence. They are being saturated with consumerism.

Kids don't learn what you tell them. They don't learn what you intend to teach them. They are conditioned by their environments. You do it, they do it. That's not an absolute, but it's a damn good rule of thumb. At this rate, my niece and nephew are going to turn into People of Walmart.

And so, I stand in defiance. I give them educational or creative toys every year for their birthdays and Christmas. I can't wait until they're old enough for telescopes, chemistry sets, watercolors, pottery, electronics kits, etc. I plan to be there to help them crack their gifts open and learn to play with them properly because I know damn well their parents will sit them in front of the hundreds of hours of recorded shows on the PVR. I'm going to take them back-country camping, teach them to start a fire with their bare hands, explain to them why the sky is blue, tell them how volcanoes work, show them what global warming is, teach them why Febreeze and other chemicals are bad, watch "Supersize me" and "Food, Inc." with them and so many more things.

Knowledge is power. These may not be my kids, but I'll be damned if they're going out in this insane world powerless. They're as close to a legacy as I have, and I want to be proud of who and what they are when I leave them behind for what lies beyond. So to those of you who approve of and embrace the way my family behaves, I dare you to tell me the childfree are forsaking their "responsibility" of building a future because they're not having kids. I dare you.

Bah Humbug, everyone.

Perspective

This is a post I found on another website I can't name for various reasons. I did, however, find a post from one user I know only as jicara. As a change of pace from my usual spiteful ramblings, It thought it would be nice to listen to someone else who is CFBC for a change (posted with permission).

Anyone else great "parents" ?

I hold some pretty strong beliefs about children. How they should be raised, treated, taught, etc.

So sometimes, I have great advice, or I put my parent hat on, and get the child to listen, or do whatever, blah blah. And then people say "oh my gosh, you're so good at blank why don't you want kids?!"

But I have no desire to "show them how it's done". I don't want that responsibility of having to care that much about someone else's development. I think enough people don't grasp the true weight of that.

You are responsible for NOT fucking that child up so much that they can't function and/or unable to contribute to society. That's.. crushing. The depth of that; the financial, emotional and mental drain that has on you. I don't understand how people don't even at least, acknowledge this.

That's not to say, that there aren't great moments of being a parent. I'm not saying there aren't, or that there are few. I'm saying that the reward isn't enticing enough for me to even want to get near the starting point.

Does it make me selfish and horrible for admitting this?

I don't think so. I think it makes me honorable and honest. How many women really dig deep and say to themselves 'I'd be a horrible parent. So.. I shouldn't' and stick with it? How many are mentally, emotionally and physically abusing their children - both on purpose and not - because deep down, they really didn't want them. They instead, fell to pressures of society and listened that WE are the crazy ones. That we're the ones who aren't good people because we don't want that responsibility.

Society pushes us (people) to do what we LOVE to do. To give it our all. To be the BEST we can be. How many people really strive to be parents? Sure, there are those that grow up dreaming of parenthood. But.. I'm curious what the ratio is to those that their goal is parenthood and those that fall into it by happenstance?

I'm talking about those that are ambivalent about it. The ones who, because their friends do it, they get married, get pregnant and follow suit. That's also not to say that they're bad parents either. They are.. okay at it. Not bad, but not stellar.

We push ourselves to be more and be better everyday in our lives about silly, stupid things. Why don't we hold the same, if not HIGHER standards on parenting?

Thank you, jicara.

The good kind of dirty

It's 2012, and the industrialized world is driven by social media. Most of us use Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest and a host of other sites where we can communicate our thoughts, likes and dislikes with other people. This blog is a perfect example. But with social media comes the inevitability of trends and memes, where you'll see the same thing posted by multiple people. This image is one iteration of something I've seen posted by many parents:

Sometimes it's an image, sometimes it's a typed out status. All of them point to the same thing: that having a house that looks like a tornado tore it apart is ok if you have children. Now before anyone hangs me out to dry, I want to say I know kids can be messy. I was terrible for not picking up my toys as a child. Even as an adult, I tend to put off doing dishes or cleaning up Nonetheless, I disagree with the above statement for a few reasons.

Generalization

This message of a messy home and happy kids is one of those statements that fosters a sense of community and solidarity amongst parents, because it's justification. Parents with messy homes don't feel so bad because other parents have messy homes, so it must be ok. It's a common thread in any subculture: If the herd does it, then it must be right.

There are some who flat out hop on the bandwagon because it gives them an excuse. An acquaintance of mine knows someone (we'll call her M) who is just such a person. Statements like this one give her an excuse to not do housework, so she has more time to play on her laptop while the kids are being raised by the television. Being selfish and attention-loving as she is, M will brag about not putting any time into the housework because she's looking after her family. She is the exception, not the rule, and I realize that. It's still a sad situation all around.

Causality

The statement implies that the messy house is because of the happy kids. In other words, dedicating more time to family life while sacrificing time spent doing chores. That is invariably seen as an acceptable trade off, because there is nothing more important than taking care of the kids. It's a noble sentiment in and of itself, but I find it too absolute.

I grew up in a clean house. Not a spotless one, but a clean one. My toys were put away when I was done at the end of the day (much to my chagrin), the dishes were done, any dirty laundry was in the hamper. The house looked lived in, for sure, but it wasn't a wreck. Nowadays, I see so many houses that require you to watch where you step for fear of putting your foot in a plate of food left on the floor, or stepping on a toy, spare battery, set of keys, fork, stray shopping bag or whatever else that was left where it was set down. I lived as a bachelor for 9 years, and my apartment never even came close to looking like that (and bachelors are notorious for being slobs). Maybe the times are different.

My mother was a stay at home mom until I was about 9 or 10 so when I was very young, she was home all day and in the evening, she and my dad would take turns taking care of me while the other one cooked/cleaned. I also have a brother who is 5 years older than I am. That was a large enough gap that they didn't have to watch us both with the same diligence. My brother could be left to his own devices while they cared for me. He could even help look after me. So it's entirely possible that my personal experience has clouded my judgement. I also have no memory before the age of 4. Perhaps my house was a pig sty during my toddlerhood (Is that a word? It sounds like it should be a word).

If you don't feel like dusting or doing dishes or putting away laundry, be my guest. It's your house. If you don't mind having your belongings strewn about your house where every day is a scavenger hunt, go for it. Honestly, I won't judge so long as it doesn't become a hazard and no one's safety is at risk. But don't tout yourself as a super parent because your stove top is a mess or because your socks are hanging form the ceiling fan. That's something M would do, and I don't want any parent to turn into M.