I was in Texas with my boyfriend for Labor Day weekend and after the
excessive summer heat of the south I am so happy to be back in New York
where fall has decided to grace us with her lovely presence. I am also
appreciating my life as I always do when I return from a trip; my
perfectly soft bed, my conveniently located closet full of dresses and
shoes, and the ability to do pretty much what I want to do when I want
to do it. I love traveling and seeing new places, but I also always
love to return home and revel in the things that I had been taking for
granted before I left.
The reason I am extra pleased to
be back in New York after my latest trip is because we were in Austin,
Texas to visit my boyfriend's brother, his wife and their three month
old son. Now before I get myself into trouble here let me make the
disclaimer that I thoroughly enjoyed myself and had a lovely time
hanging out and getting to know my boyfriend's family. They are really
chill, sweet people and the baby is about as cute and well behaved as
you could possibly imagine, which is pretty darn cute. But we stayed at
their place and worked on their schedule, which is always a little
stressful.
But the heat was easily escapable with
central air and swimming in the creek and the house was immaculately
kept and my boyfriend's family were excellent hosts keeping us as
comfortable and as entertained as possible. What really ruffled my
feathers that weekend was the sheer amount of time that we spent with
the baby. The baby was cute and barely cried and is practically my
nephew, but I just don't like babies that much and a five day vacation
that revolved around a three month old was just more than I could
handle.
I don't really know what it is about babies or
myself that makes me want to leave the room instead of coo over them,
but I have never really had any interest in small children. Sure I had
baby dolls as a kid and I did a decent amount of babysitting and
teaching children various activities at summer camps, but I always
preferred working with kids closer to the age of ten where they could
articulate themselves and have something interesting to say about the
world. And for all my capabilities and motherly instincts and
experience working with children of all ages I still would rather go to a
museum than gawk over a baby's smile.
They kind of
smell funny to be honest and I mean they smell funny when their clean;
they smell horrifying when they are dirty and soiled. And they are
pretty boring too, all they do is sit there and stare at whatever you
put in front of them; I just don't see what is so entertaining about a
baby making random sounds that have nothing to do with anything. And as
soon as the baby isn't happy things get really ugly. Messes are made,
screaming ensues, and no one can focus on anything but the kid and no
rest is to be had until the baby is pacified.
Maybe I'm
selfish, maybe I'm just young (I'm only 24!) or maybe I'm a product of
my generation and am just an independent woman and a confused college
graduate more concerned with what I am doing with my life than if a baby
can hold it's head up by itself. I do think that it is strange that I
feel the need to explain myself to everyone who asks about my
relationship with kids that I am not some monster of a person or a
disgrace to the human race I just don't like babies and whatever the
reason may be I don't think that is such a crime.
Of
course it really isn't a crime and I suppose no one is really judging me
too harshly based on my reaction to babies. I'm actually pretty
fortunate that my family is more concerned with my career and my well
being then having grand-kids. But I guess my concern stems from the
only person's opinion that I am truly concerned about. As where I have
no interest in babies or having kids at all for that matter, my
boyfriend gets a doe eyed look when he watches his nephew squirm in his
car-seat and I guess there is the dramatic, irrational part of me that
worries he is going to leave me if he realizes how I really feel about
babies. The reason this is a ridiculous notion is because we have
talked about kids before and I have told him all the plethora of reason I
don't want to have children and he has so far shown no signs of dumping
me or even pressuring me to change my mind (because he is amazing!)
But my dramatic side is not governed by the silly rules of reason and I
worry that there is something wrong with me, I worry that my boyfriend
will find someone who is ready to settle down with him, and I worry that
I will decide to settle down myself one day and miss out on so many
amazing experiences.
I suppose at 24 no one (except for
myself since I often feel more like I'm 80) really expects me to have a
baby of my own (or my life "together") and no one really cares if I
want to hold the baby for an hour or only a minute, but sometimes life
challenges you with experiences that you are not ready for. And during
the hours that I find myself unwillingly in charge of a tiny human I
have to trust that the 80 year old in me will know how to handle the
situation as gracefully as possible. And so my weekend in Texas, while
long and more stressful than I prefer my vacations, is over and was
really quite nice now that I look back on it. And while I'm not home
free from babies since my boyfriend's other brother lives much closer
than Texas and also has a small baby in tow, I am for the moment
relieved to be baby free.
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