Being the crazy aunt

When I was growing up, all my parents' siblings had children. So, to my mind, all my cousins were extensions of my parents and though I liked them, I was a bit scared of them too. As an adult, I have cordial, but distant, relationships with them.

This past weekend I visited my brother, who has three children--eight, six, and three. They are a fantastic mix of obedient and exuberant, polite and playful. My partner and I did races around the lawn with the kids. We practiced cartwheels and handstands and sommersaults. We played in the blow-up kid's pool, riding them around on my shoulders and falling off backwards in fits of glee. We went bike riding. We played imaginary games and tore in and out of the house at full speed. By the end of the weekend, the kids were making themselves almost sick with excitement. Of course this isn't the kind of thing to do with kids every day. That's why they need a crazy aunt, who doesn't need to be mindful of setting rules, who has saved up all her playing energy just for them, and who can lavish them with undemanding attention. I can enjoy my brother's children more, because they aren't mine to discipline and raise every day. I hope that as they grow up, I can be a mentor and a friend to them, in a way I couldn't be if I was someone else's parent. I like to think they're lucky, to have an extra set of adults with whom they come first.

The childless need weekends too!

In a recent career couch section of the NYT, advice was given to workers who are asked to pick up the slack for their co-workers with family commitments. When asked to work overtime or on the weekend, what should you do? One answer made our hearts sing. "Your first option is to say no."

Yep. Just say no in the timeless words of Nancy Reagan. How liberating. No guilt. No lame excuses. No justification. What a concept. Your free time is just as valuable as theirs. And legally, flextime is flextime, whether you are picking up kids or picking up a bottle of wine.

Just for kids...why?

I was peacefully eating my cereal this morning, when the side panel of my organic milk caught my eye. Specifically, this line: "Studies have shown that children who eat a predominantly organic diet have far lower levels of pesticide residues in their bodies than children who eat mostly non-organic foods." There's so much I could say about this, starting with, duh, is this supposed to be a surprise? But, as this is a blog on childfree issues I'll stick to that. Why is it that they (the milk marketing copyists) need to say children? Why not say people? As an adult I don't think that having pesticide residues in my body is terribly appealing, or indeed healthy. True, as an adult I may be able to metabolize bad stuff somewhat better than a small child, but that's still no reason to stuff my body full of chemicals. People need to be healthy, not just children. The same goes for so many things that are categorized as "what children need." Children need to eat a balanced diet and play outside. So do adults, unless they want to have a triple bypass. Children need sleep. So do adults, unless they want to be crabby and fall asleep at work at 3:00 p.m. Children need love. So do...need I say more. And what message do we send to children? That being an adult is the end, don't even bother trying anymore because once you're past childhood you might as well just eat the pesticides straight from the bottle. No thanks. I'm opting for adulthood as a continuation of childhood with extra perks, like being old enough to go on vacation without a chaperone.

Another one bites the dust... or maybe not

Out to dinner with a friend last night, who is getting married in the fall, we talked about weddings and parents and then, inevitably, kids. She said they wanted to have kids soon because she wasn't getting any younger. This didn't suprise me. I knew she was one of those people who would want kids if they met the right person, despite childfree leanings in the past. But as she was saying it, and I was feeling genuinely happy for her, that she was getting what she wanted, I felt a wave of sadness, as if she had already moved out to the suburbs and stopped calling, had already become immersed in this whole other life. Although I do have friends with children, some really good friends, there are others I've lost contact with or lost a connection with over the years. Since many friendships are based on shared experiences, I guess it's not that surprising that they fade when you have less and less in common, but it's still sad.

The Six Stages of Childfree Life

After years of research and analysis (aka bellying up to a nice bar with a vodka gimlet and talking to women friends of all ages) we've determined that there are distinct phases in the childfree life. For most of us the decision not to have children isn't made once, it's made about a million times with varying levels of fervor. True, this is hardly a revelation, but you probably didn't know there were six stages. Actually, neither did we until we decided to write about it and figured we needed a catchy way to describe it. So without further ado, here they are:

1. Whatever
The blissfully clueless stage up until age 25

2. Later
The party-hard pre-reality stage from age 25-30

3. You’re on my last nerve
The too-many baby showers anger stage from age 30-35

4. Don’t go there
The reality bites denial stage from age 35-40

5. Oops, I forgot to have children
The last chance will-you-won’t-you stage from 40-45

6. Happily ever after
Ah, finally, the acceptance stage from age 45 - eternity