Side Sixteen: Small Cars

Husband and I bought a new car a couple years back, in the heady days when we thought children were in our future. It's a small car - a 3-door hatchback - and it's perfect for us. But woo, did we catch some flak for buying the car we did.

At the time, we still had not decided to actively try for a family but we knew we were open to the idea of children. We shopped a bit, and ended up buying a Hyundai Accent after Husband's best friend gave us a glowing recommendation. As soon as our families heard what car we got, the comments came.

We were told that we should have gotten a mini-van. We should have done what they did and buy a tricked-out SUV. The car was called a buggy, and people wondered how we would fit all the kid things in a tiny car like that. Won't someone think of a car seat?

Not the Author's car, but it could be if she wanted. She has no kids to lug around. 

Fast forward a few months and that tricked-out SUV is a lemon, and children are still no where in our future. So while those who gave us all the "advice" are driving behemoths, Husband and I are zipping around town, in and out of parking spots, happy as larks that we did not cave into their ridiculous pressure and do what they did. Our backseat is delightfully empty, and the trunk has a snow brush in it. That is all.

Not having children means not having to drive big, clunky vehicles. Our little car is a breeze to fill up and maintain, and is reliable enough to get us back and forth across the country without ever once breaking down. Thank you all for your (never heeded) "advice".

Side Fifteen: Adult Food

Husband and I like spicy food. We eat a lot of curries, hot sauce and peppers, and we like trying new foods. And I am a lucky wife. Husband eats anything I serve him. There's no turned-up noses or piles of sprouts pushed to the side of plate.

I understand that children can be fussy eaters. When they are really young, you can feed them anything. Goodtimes used to have miso soup. G gorged himself on broccoli. But as they are getting older, the fussiness is setting in. Gone are the days - for now - of savoury and grown-up meals in my sister's house. They have settled into the days of grilled cheese sandwiches and fries.

On a shelf in my kitchen, there sits a row of cookbooks that I love to pour over and find new recipes. I am looking forward to to cracking open a new book about spices. Once, my sister was wondering what to make for dinner and I suggested Spicy Peanut Chicken. As soon as the word "spicy" left my lips, my sister shook her head, knowing that no one in her home would eat it. Sucks to be in the home with no Spicy Peanut Chicken.

Now pardon me while I go make a chipotle sauce for the fish.

Side Fourteen: Being Sick

I am fighting a nasty, nasty cold right now. It's knocked me on my butt, and I had to stay home from work yesterday with a stuffy nose, a cough and a fever. I spent the day sleeping and wallowing in my misery. I can spend a day doing that since I have no children needing me.

Friends and family with kids have told me that when they're sick, there is no day off. They can't just crawl into bed with a box of kleenex and a system full of ny-quil because the children need them. That sounds dreadful to me. Yesterday, in the depths of my despair, caring for another human was the furthest from my mind.

The author, who is very sick.

 

My sister told me that her kids are always bringing germs home for the family to share. G will go to play-group and come home with a stream of thick, green snot pouring from his nose. That splendour will work its way to the rest of the family. E will come home from story time at the library with a stomach bug that is soon spread like butter to the whole house. Last summer when we moved home, I caught the grossest cold. I love G and E and Goodtimes, so I played with them, hugged them and cuddled with them as much as I could. Completely unaware that they are germ-carriers, I caught this mutant strain that knocked me on my ass for days.

The lack of children in my home means that there are no little people to bring home whatever germ is floating the daycares and play groups these days. It also means that when I do get sick, I can whimper and wallow in bed until I feel better again. Being barren while being sick is a healthy thing.

Side Thirteen: Mobility

It's been a tumultuous fall. Hell, it's been a tumultuous year. I will be glad to kiss 2011 goodbye and move forward with hope for a change. Husband and I moved home to Nova Scotia is spring to be closer to family and to settle there for good. We made our plans, saved our money and plotted every detail. The one detail we failed to plot was the abysmal job market. We are both educated and experienced, but we could not find work to save our souls. In fact, one employer told me, while telling me I was passed over for a job, that my experience is "good but not good enough for Halifax." I have my theories as to why the job market seemed so insular, but Husband and I were done with Nova Scotia. Almost six months after arriving, we left again, this time for Victoria, BC. I was in the running for a few jobs, and we figured it was a safe gamble. While on the way there, I interviewed for a great job in Ottawa, and shortly after pitching up in Victoria, I was offered that job. So we packed up and moved to Ottawa. Have I mentioned how we moved? We packed our Hyundai Accent hatchback and drove across the country... three times.

So yeah, this has been a shiteous year.

We're settled now in Ottawa. My job is fantastic, and we found a lovely apartment in downtown Ottawa. Our car is unpacked and our atlas is tucked away. As Husband and I reflect on the past year, we're thankful for each other, and try to take lessons from what we endured. One of those lessons is: "Thank god it was just us!"

The road less travelled. Except by the Author.
Photo courtesy fo freedigitalphotos.com

You see, if a child was in our lives, we would have never done what we did. True, that might be a good thing, but our experience has taught us a lot. If we had a child, we would have never takent he chance and tried to live in Nova Scotia. We would have stayed in Edmonton where, quite frankly, we weren't that happy. If we had a child, we would have never taken the gamble and go to Victoria. We would have remained at my parent's house until some crappy job turned up, most likely one not in our fields. We had to go to Victoria, to be in a city that held a lot of good memories for us. We got that out of our system. If we had a child, we would never have taken the leap and move to a brand new city, in a highrise downtown. We've been able to take chances, make mistakes and make good moves, all without worrying about a child in tow. Now, we're settled, happy and picking up where we left off.

Being barren has allowed us to take giant risks and try something different, fall on our faces and find redemption again. Those life lessons are a huge upside to barrenness.

Side Ten: Restaurants

My Sister recently moved to northern Manitoba for work. Before she left, we went for breakfast. G was in play group, and I foolishly thought that we could have a nice, quiet breakfast with one child - just E. You see, I have never really been to restaurants with two adults and one kid. It's always been a slew of children and a bunch of adults to reign them in. I thought with this ratio, we could have a civilized, adult meal. After all, the adults outnumbered the child, so adults should win, right?


E was in a high chair, but then tried to climb out by almost tipping it over. She walked around the restaurant saying hi to everyone, but came back when people ignored her. She ate french toast with her mom, but then tried to pour syrup on the table. She ate some berries until she tired of them and smashed them in her tiny fingers. With syrupy, berry-stained hands, she grabbed for the salt, the pepper, the sugar packets, the milk cups, the flowers, the specials board, my wallet, her mom's sunglasses. This continued until our food was gobbled, our coffee slurped. We dined and dashed - with paying, of course.

Last night, Husband and I went to dinner. It was a lovely place, and we enjoyed ourselves despite the children around us. But watching the family with the two little boys - about 6 and 8 - made me see yet another bright side to barrenness.

The younger boy was the ham of this family. He was making faces, making bubbles in his glass of water, saying "cute" things. He didn't even stop when the food came. He started harping about wanting chicken bones (read: chicken wings) and yelped about it until his mother blew on a wing until it was cool. I watched the mother. She was eating quickly, grabbing napkins, saving glasses of water from falling off the table, shushing the younger kid, getting ketchup for the older kid... it was exhausting to watch. Husband and I got our meals and enjoyed our serenity.

Being able to talk and enjoy another adult's company over a meal is a very bright side of being barren.

Side Four: Poop Has Its Place

When my niece and nephews visit, I often end up saying “I smell feces.” There is usually a child with a full diaper and me bolting from the room. I can change a diaper and will do so in a pinch, but I have no desire to volunteer to clean a poopy bum. Husband is even more averse to poop. Last summer, while visiting during a heat wave, he had to change G’s incredibly poopy bum. He said he almost puked on the child when he revealed a smelly poopy diaper in 40 degree heat.

My sister likes to share tales from the poop file. G didn’t make it to potty on time. E’s diaper was so full it smeared up her back. Someone pooped on the couch. There was poop in the car seat. The colour, the state, the smell – she shares it all. 

Where all little turds go to heaven. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphoto.com

In our home – our adult home – poop has its place. It stays securely in the toilet and is flushed cleanly away. Being barren means that our couches, our car, our bed, our floors, our walls, our hair, everything will remain clean, fresh and free of feces. THAT is a big upside of barren-ness.

Side Two: A Disney-Free Life

Someone once told me I had no soul because I hate Disney. 

Photo courtesy of photobucket

The princesses, the glitter, the pirates, the commercialization, the World, the Land, the whole shebang. I have never liked Disney, even as a child, and I must say that when the idea of bearing children came into my world, my biggest fear (after third degree tearing) was enduring Disney.

I don’t want to get all hyper-feminist, super-political here, but the gender roles perpetuated by this heinous corporation makes my blood boil. I hate the idea of little girls growing up thinking they’re princesses, waiting for their prince charming. And this whole “get it now before it goes back in the vault” movie marketing scheme makes me scream. As if we won’t see the same schtick for Fantasia in five years.

I know that I will never have to shell out thousands of dollars to bring my kids to Disney, only to spend the whole time giving myself and aneurysm trying not to scream. I will never pose with some skid in a Pluto costume, pretending to be excited. Nor will I have to traipse around a manufactured hell in deadly heat, waiting in line for a picture with a CGI Tinkerbell. A child-free, Disney-free life is good, indeed. And for the record, I do have a soul.