Can I have your daughter, please?
Faced with the daunting task of getting our adoption book done, we’ve now taken to coveting other people’s children. We went to the Bastille Day celebration to meet our friends with their three young kids, who are so adorable. We ran into other friends with their children and at a certain point, we were like, hey, we’ll take anyone of these. We even offered to adopt a grown up, who needs parental guidance.
But even though we are depressed and disillusioned by the whole adoption process, honestly, we are not sweating it too much. A friend at dinner the other night said, “She told me that I should have children because that was the only thing that would make me feel substantial.”
Poppycock, I said. The last thing a kid is going to do is offer you self actualization, you are better off barren than having a child to fill your void.
But as I sat in the hospital last night, I thought about what other people have said they have children for, to have someone to take care of them when they are old. Another lame reason to have kids in my humble opinion. The last thing I want to do is be a burden to my child and the very thought of my son or daughter sitting in an uncomfortable chair while I lay on a gurney with tubes coming out of me in the wee hours of the morning is horrifying – for them.
Why have kids? Well I want to have kids because I think they are sort of cool in their innocence and hopefulness and the raw energy they offer. Take the adult we proposed to adopt, he is already so fucked up that we would be working backwards to parent him. At least with a child, we hope, it is all forward motion.