Why it doesn't make sense to have kids (but we do it anyway)

In fact, all logical arguments point to the fact that having kids in this day and age is positively bonkers.  That's not to say, however, that having kids isn't worthwhile.  It is.

As an interesting, albeit junk study recently indicated, the argument for having kids for emotional kudos is based on pure delusion.  The 'evidence' suggests that if we remained childless, we'd not only be richer as a species, but happier, too.  (Though admittedly, we'd also, after quite a while, be extinct, too, but I digress...) Apparently the greater the perceived sacrifices made in raising children, the greater satisfaction parents report feeling.  Masochist, moi?  Well, the lot of us, it would seem. 

But such studies about parenting are tautological by nature and on a personal note, a real pain in the ass.  Data of the heart isn't readily quantifiable, regardless of how solid your control group.  Sure, parenthood doesn't make fiscal sense.  I mean, duh -- of course it doesn't.  But the emotional payback must range somewhere in the gazillions.  Ok, so some days this home truth isn't exactly apparent, and some days we're tempted to throttle our kids and risk capital punishment.  Some days we secretly lament the loss of freedom and pension fund; we daydream of a parallel, Sliding Doors kind of universe in which we are barren yet fancy free.  But then we blink, and the moment passes...

Besides, how can you put a value on your child's smile or any time he looks you in the eye and says, 'I love you, Mommy'?  That's right; you can't.  What pseudoscience tends to forget is that those moments, though admittedly few and far between, are priceless.  Likewise with marriage.  It's a bitch, and sometimes we want to throttle our spouse and risk aforementioned capital punishment.  But that doesn't put us off searching for a soul mate, and tying the knot again and again and again...  Our desire to bond with other human beings runs deeper than mere primordial urge.  (Well, perhaps excepting Charlie Sheen.)

Before I had children, my mother struggled --and failed-- to articulate the joys of motherhood to me.  It was much like trying to describe sex to a virgin.  'You'll understand once you have one,' she said enigmatically.  But you know what?  She was exactly right. On both counts.

How the F-word changed motherhood (or not)

IWD may sound like a disease, but it actually stands for International Women's Day.  A lot has changed since our foremothers were roughing it in the trenches.  Feminism has brought us better cloth diapers, with velcro fastenings, no more 'safety' pin-pricked fingers, thank you very much.  We are now --more or less-- free to work as many (or as few) hours as we want to, wherever we want to.  We are free to have as many (or as few) children as our little hearts desire, thanks to some modern miracles known as contraception and IVF**.  Another pint-sized but no less wondrous invention: tampons. (Don't know about you but the idea of waddling around in bunched-up, Sumo-style fabric isn't my idea of enlightened.)

So we women in the West have our foremothers' sacrifices to thank for our current freedom.  All those brassieres weren't charred in vain.  That said, I'm not sure being a mother these days is any easier than it was in the 'oldendays'.  Certainly we have more conveniences at our fingertips.  However, sometimes the sheer number of options available to us seems limitless.  Choice may be synonymous with freedom, but all that choice can also cause guilt, inertia, even, paradoxically, indecision.  Because we try to wear so many hats at once, and play so many of the roles now open to us, we bear the strains of extra responsibilities and self-imposed metaphorical schizophrenia.  Being superwoman day in, day out inevitably takes its toll.  In the main, we are stressed, sometimes resentful, confused, and chronically exhausted. 

But in spite of all the above, as mothers, are we happier today?  What would our daughters strive to change in our place?  Only time will tell...

** I was going to add that we no longer have to give birth at home with nothing but a Popsicle stick to bite on.  But apparently this isn't so, as my good friend N will attest.  N gave birth, sans Popsicle, to a bouncing 7lbs boy yesterday, mere minutes before the paramedics arrived!

The brown diaries -- vol 3

Can there really be a third instalment? I never intended for a trilogy. After a long hiatus, we've made some terrific progress, though. LGO now has a potty wall of fame -- yes, we've adopted the dreaded sticker chart. He likes it, and given his appetite, I figure it's a better incentive than the carcinogenic Smarties. Of course he is showered with praise, too. And he often declares proudly, 'I did a HUGE poop!' so there is certain pride in the act of expunging, and of course, as with all things male and bravado, size is everything.

For a while we would read books with him on the john. After the millionth reading of The Purple Snerd and Munsch's Mortimer, however, we splurged on a LeapFrog 'notepad', which comfortably fits on his lap. Now he'll doodle while doing his business. It seems to work. And yet, with all this triumph, it's a wonder we don't have the training in the bag yet.

We sit him down after each meal, like clockwork. More often than not, he produces. After he peed in the big toilet yesterday, I figured it was time to introduce the big boy underwear. Within a half hour: carnage. He not only did No. 1, a No. 2 also greased his fancy tank engines. The worst part -- not only didn't he announce his intention but he didn't seem to mind going in his pants in the least. Just sort of hobbled around, a la John Wayne, with the chocolate parcel in his drawers. Never once said 'boo', not so much as an 'uh-oh's', no declarations of the sort.

So, after cleaning him up, we put on new pants and new undies (Y-fronts this time, Old Navy). Another half hour, and another trickle. Still isn't fazed. No comments from the peanut gallery. Unlike one of his female friends, who screams and cries when she wets her panties, with LGO it's business as usual. Does this mean he isn't ready? Still? How can I get him to care about where he shits? Is he doomed to be one of those guys who pees against brick walls in alleyways when perfectly good toilets abound? Say it ain't so...

For better or whatever (redux)

Chocolates or a dozen roses? Yes, it's that time again, when your significant other indulges in a (banal) attempt to show you just how much you mean to him/her. Singletons aren't the only ones who want to vomit pink on the 14 day of February; they're not the only ones who'd love to tell Cupid where to stick his freaking arrow.

With the divorce rate being what it is, makes you wonder why so many people continue to buy into 'happily ever after'. If monogamy really is dead as the cynics would have us believe, then why are people still getting married and remarried ad infinitum? Romance after marriage may be a rarity, yet death-do-you-part is a dream that we as a society still cling to for dear life. Despite our shoddy track record, we desperately want monogamy to work.

I have been with my significant other for nearly half of my life now. Scary to think of it in those terms, if only because it's a stark reminder of how quickly the years stack up. Twelve, to be precise. That is no small feat these days. Some of my friends are already well into their second marriages. I'm not sure what our particular secret is. There isn't some elixir when it comes to staying with the same person, no magic bunny hiding underneath the marital bed. Marriage, to me, is a lot like writing: 99 per cent perspiration, 1 per cent inspiration. In this age there is so much competing for our limited attention -- children, work, friends, even hobbies. The real work of marriage is to stay connected in spite of all those conflicting demands on our time. After all, no relationship is unsinkable, and complacency is the iceberg no one saw coming...

For some reason many couples are reluctant to carve out time for each other. Children certainly complicate the issue, but babysitters are significantly cheaper than divorce lawyers! Blame 14 February, I say. It doesn't have to be Moët and Chandon. It doesn't even have to be heart-shaped or velvet to be heartfelt. A simple walk or chai latte together can act as a crucial reminder of why you enjoy spending time together. Defer that connection for too long, and you'll roll over one day and hardly recognize the person beside you.

Sex is nice, but what's icing without cake? You have to lay the groundwork, so to speak. A wise friend once introduced me to the Six Second Rule. No matter what's happening around you -- deadlines, tantrums -- wrap your arms around your partner, and make those seconds count. Sounds silly and overly simplistic, but it works. Intimacy is all about being present in the moment, otherwise sex risks becoming yet another thing to strike off the To Do list.

So rather than plunk down in front of Glee, why not share a bubble bath or snuggle together with a glass of red? BlackBerries and televisions are the sworn enemies of romance and, ironically, of true communication. You know this; I know this. If it's artificial glow you want, then go light some candles.

At the end of a long day, I still feel blessed to fall into my hubby’s arms, even if it is only for six seconds. To me, evolving through the various stages of life with the same person is the biggest turn-on. Personally, I love how our plot keeps thickening, twisting in unexpected directions. Becoming parents was just another chapter in our saga (an exhilarating, sometimes arduous chapter), and already I find myself looking forward to the next chapter, and the next after that.

On bullying a bully

They say there’s no such thing as a bad child, only bad behavior. Recently I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing up close and extremely personally this so-called bad behavior. When I enrolled my two-year-old son in a program named (wishfully, ironically) Terrific Twos, I was excited. The aim of the class is just to give tots a taste of preschool life, with its structured activities ranging from crafts to stories and singsong. Beyond that the big draw for me is the chance to drop off my son and eventually leave the room for a while...

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