Children…there of.

Some people ask why I don’t have children. It seems like a logical thing for people to do. Have kids. I adore kids. I get along with them well. Kids usually love me. I make them feel safe and they know they can tell me anything without being judged. I spoil them but I also demand they be decent people. I do not withold my affections because of a single mistake but neither do I excuse bad behaviour, in them or myself. I apologize to kids if I make a mistake because let’s face it, kids need to know an adult is human enough to say I’m sorry.

But there is something inside of me…something left by someone else… that makes me wary of actually raising a child of my own.

This is that something.

For some of us, childhood is something to survive. Some of us that do survive it want to celebrate those that make it a wonderful time to experience. So when you ask me, why I don’t have children, it’s because I can’t give a child the happiness it would deserve but damn it, I will certainly cheer you on as you raise yours right.

7 thoughts on “Children…there of.

  1. Okay, well, now I’m crying. Damn, woman. I’m going to go hug my babies and tell them how much I love them now.

    1. PLEASE hug your babies. God, that’s all I want for each and every kid. Soooo fricking important. You’re raising little persons!

  2. Patricia Grayson

    I was thirty-three before I had a little one of my own. Then another at thirty-seven years. Still wondered if I was grown up enough to handle the responsibility. It is THE most important thing you can do. Thanks for that brilliant posting.

    1. If ever you wonder if you’re grown up enough to raise them, that shows you’re still young enough to laugh with them 😀

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