The Selfish Childless: A Rebuttal

A REBUTTAL FROM THE CHILDLESS

My friend Karen Wilson over at Karen'sChronicles forwarded me an article by Joe O'Connor published in the National Post, and we both were so gobsmacked by Joe's ridiculous remarks that we're both writing responses. I suggest strongly that you read Joe's article first, then read on from here.

Joe starts off his tirade by titling it, 'Trend of Couples Not Having Children Just Plain Selfish.' Well, naturally that's meant to elicit a reaction from the crowd, and I won't deny it had me reading on pretty quickly. Joe is a parent who seems to be attempting to describe the lives of DINKs (Double Income, No Kids) without actually having talked to many of us. He repeatedly attempts to paint a picture of childless couples as yoga-pants-wearing, lattee-sipping, Martha's-vineyarding, yacht-club-faring bourgeoisie. It's a funny misconception compared to the reality of my own life, where Friday nights aren't spent with a bottle of wine, but with a rushed TV dinner after an hour-long bus commute while my husband tries to glue back together the sofa leg that keeps coming off. 

PAINTING A FALSE PICTURE

I'm not sure where Joe got this idea that being childless means you've got scads of extra income. I figure having kids is a bit like smoking: you find the money when you've got the need, but if the need isn't there, the money isn't just lying around in coffers waiting for you to buy your next Mazerati. Ridiculous, Joe, to paint an entire 40% of the population with one giant gilded paintbrush--flattering, but absurd. 

I also take great offence to his suggestion that childless couples get to lounge around in their peignoirs on a weeknight because they're not chasing toddlers around a hockey arena. I might...might...have more time in a day than the average parent for throwing myself down upon my fainting couch, but that's not how I choose to spend my time. I have a blog--a secondary source of income, as well as a cornerstone of my career growth--that requires my time. A family made up of aging parents, younger siblings, and close friends with struggles. And a first house, which has been a nightmare of time suckage from Day One. I know Joe would probably rebut that parents have all these same issues going on, but still choose the saintly path of procreation despite the odds against them; but I'd argue that knowing your limits isn't a sign of selfishness, Joe. It's a sign of maturity.

THE PRIME RELATIONSHIP DIRECTIVE?

Joe goes on to say, and I quote: 

Having children used to be the point of being a pair. It was the great aspiration — along with finding love everlasting — a biological impulse to go forth and multiply and, later, once your babies reached a certain age, to cajole them about the merits and benefits of doing their bit to join the ranks of parenthood while giving Mom and Dad some grandkids.

 

Wow, Joe. You just reduced all couplings down to a biological imperative to procreate. I wonder how the same-sex couples out there feel about your statement, because the math would show that you're implying those couples don't even count--nevermind any hetero couples who hooked up while knowing that one of them was infertile. Yes, I gotta say I was pretty astounded with the Victorian-era mindset portrayed by this comment. Make babies, Joe says, and if you're lucky, maybe find some love. Oh, and while you're at it, bestow the same babymaking guilt upon the next generation--because, as he later states, those kids and grandkids care for their elderly. (That's a false Norman Rockwell scene you're painting, Joe.)

 

My desire for marrying did not stem from the need to find viable male seed. I married Brian because I wanted to have a partner in life, someone with whom to experience the triumphs and the trials; someone with whom to share reciprocal support and affection. Not someone who was eager to get started on 6am little league practices.

OTHER CHILDLESS CONSIDERATIONS

Joe does address some of the main concerns that many of us DINKs have about childrearing: the cost, the time, the modern careers that never allow for a work/life balance; these he dismisses with a 'suck it up, buttercup' wave of his hand. The reality is that we are indeed in tough financial times, in a new world of employment with wild employer expectations, and between time and money many of my friends are afraid to get a goldfish, let alone a child. But Joe also eschews the very real concern some of us DINKs have about overpopulation, stating, 

Flaky fears about overburdening our already overburdened planet, personal choice and a bunch of other hooey that serve to hide the fact that happy couples that choose not to have kids are, at root, well, let’s see: selfish.

From my ten years' experience working with underprivileged and street-involved youth, Joe, I can tell you that these 'flaky fears' about bringing more kids into the world are anything but. Should Brian and I ever decide to parent, it will be as a foster or adoptive home for one of these forgotten children. I don't see it as selfish not to create my own genetic offspring; I see it as humble. 

SELFISH? Riiiiiiight.

But let's talk about selfish for a moment. Perhaps, to someone who has been apparently embittered by watching, as he describes them, "childless hipsters dancing through life", I look selfish. I won't even begin my rant about the term 'hipster' and how it's bandied about to describe any person under the age of 35 these days. But the image he paints is clear: that being young, fertile, yet childless is irresponsible and "selfish".

I think selfish, Joe, could be defined as someone who would compel an entire swathe of the population to get breeding. Selfish is seeing your childrearing struggles as the epitome of human experience and martyrdom. Selfish is thinking that you have a right to scathingly wax poetic about a lifestyle of which you have no concept. Selfish is bringing a child into this world because you're told to attain that gold star (something I've mentioned before), when reflection might show that you're not ready, not interested, or not built for parenting. 

Joe goes on to quote one Monica Zeniuk, a childless woman, as saying, 

“The benefits of not having children are in the driveway, in our closet and stamped on our passports.  Kids are expensive. And the marriage mortality rate is huge, without the added pressure of financing a child through its life.”

I don't disagree with Ms Zeniuk's highlighted benefits of remaining childless; it's entirely possible that we will travel more, drive a sports car, and have a longer marriage than some of our childrearing friends. 

But I personally have never considered the financial benefits and leisure time as my priorities for choosing to remain childless. I have, however, considered my life situation, my abilities and wellness, and my lack of maternal interest...and these careful deliberations have led me to understand myself in a way that cannot be judged. It is the simple truth: I am childless because I will not birth a child just to meet a standard. If that's selfish, then I proudly wear the label.

Just as I do not pass judgement on the myriad complex reasons why people choose to have offspring, Joe, I encourage you to also check your own biases and put down your gavel. In a time of mass overpopulation and world hunger, the word 'selfish' here could be a stone you're throwing within your own glass house. Your article reads like a piece of mid-century war-era propaganda, and it's embarrassing more than it is infuriating. We're no longer in an era where we need to produce a male heir, stock our farm with kindred farmhands, nor replace the fallen soldiers in our populace. There are plenty of people, and plenty of kids. You've found your happiness and your bliss; leave us to find ours.

Home, Sweet Home. And hives. Lots of hives.

My new beautiful kitchen. See our
clever pegboard backsplash? :)

We have moved into the new house. I had no idea it would be this much work and this much time. I haven’t written a word in days, and if I never see another cardboard box again, it will be too soon.

We woke up that first morning in the new house to a gorgeous sunny room. Naturally this startled me, so I sat bolt-upright in bed at 6am. You see, in our old place the bedroom was in the attic and the windows were tiny, and you had to become super-sensitive to sunlight or you’d never know it was morning. Here, the window is huge and is right beside the bed. We look out on trees and a park. It is heaven.

Not a single bat has flown at me in the time we’ve been here. They are almost suspiciously absent from our lives. It reminds me of the time I got rid of a really bad roommate, but then still found I missed them a little.

Brian is dead tired and I suppose I am, too, but it feels good. We’re only half unpacked and I don’t even care. Well, except I’d really like some curtains, because living at ground level for the first time in years has reminded me that people can see you in your skivvies when you’re getting breakfast together in the morning. Oops.

Behold, my hivey legs.

It hasn’t been smooth. I woke up on the first morning here with hives all over me. I looked like a little kid with chicken pox, frankly. It wasn’t attractive, and it took us two days to figure out that it was the construction dust doing it to me. Brian had to clean the house from top to bottom while my mother washed all my linens. The reaction has ceased but has left me with red splotches that I hope will heal nicely.

But so far, I am thrilled with the house. No, not the neighbours, and no, not the commute…but the house is lovely, feels huge, and ohhhhh, that sunshine.

This is a tiny sliver of ‘happily ever after’, so I’m going to leave this post just as it is. For now. 

Sunshiney happy bed!

Happy Anniversary!

Adam Pap Photography

One year ago today, Brian and I got married.

365 days later, everyone's still alive and breathing, and likes each other, even.

There may be some of you who don't know about Project: Priceless, the free wedding experiment: in short, we planned our wedding over ten months, and we did it as free-of-charge as possible; seriously, check out the Project: Priceless blog if you haven't before. What started out as a request to family for old decorations turned into an outpouring of support from strangers and businesses alike. We had the time of our lives meeting new people and promoting a lot of independent business, and best of all, we used social media to do it. On our big day, we were surrounded by friends, family, and tons of the people who helped out with the wedding...and yes, a handful of bloggers, too. We had a hashtag -- #ppwedding -- for people to live tweet the whole day.

Adam Pap Photography

That one beautiful day, Brian and I felt so overwhelmed with love and kindness. We had each other, and just as amazing, we had a community brought together through a crazy little wedding blog. And you know, we still feel that love and connection with so many of the people from our project. (If you want the rundown on the wedding project, watch this video.)

I am, naturally, thinking many big thoughts today. Mostly, I'm thinking about how lucky I am, for many reasons and because of many people, but certainly because a special person named Brian agreed to love me forever.

Here's a little montage from our wedding videographers, Bytown Productions. Celebrate with us today: lavish a loved one with a much sweetness as you can.

Flashback: Lost in the woods

Photo: Adam Pap

HAPPY HORRIBLE ANNIVERSARY

It's the anniversary  today of the day that Brian left for Calgary. Foolish boy; we'd been friends for about a year at that point, and for whatever hairbrained reason, he chose to tell me he loved me the night before he left. I don't think he expected me to say it back.

But leave he did, and I spent that first week in utter despair. I had had an entire summer with him, on the back of his bike, riding around until all hours of the night. I was addicted to motorcycles and I was missing my friend...and someone I wanted to be more. I found solace in long drives in MJ's car, chain-smoking, and angsty music. Behold, I am a teenager still. 

DRIVING INTO THE WILD

About a week after Brian left, I was out for one of my drives along the Ottawa River Parkway. I should probably mention that I was a very new driver at this time (I was older than most when I got my licence for the first time), so driving was still a novelty and my driving skills were still novice. As I approached the turn where I could either head home or head out to the Gatineau Hills, I made a snap decision: I would head to the Hills, where Brian had so often taken me up to Champlain Lookout. I would sit there, breathe the lush air of the forest, and pine for my love.

I stopped at the entrance to the Hills at a convenience store and bought a map of the area, just in case. Then I headed up into the hills, playing Arcade Fire and smoking away. I had never driven up here on my own, but as far as I could recall from the back of Brian's bike, there was just one long road winding up-up-up to the summit. Nothing to be afraid of.

YOU ARE NOWHERE.

After about twenty minutes of driving, I found myself--you guessed it--on some unfamiliar road. I pulled over when I saw a giant map, figuring I could locate myself with the handy YOU ARE HERE arrow: no luck. The map had no YOU ARE HERE arrow, and to this day I don't understand how that could be. Anyway, I pulled out my pre-purchased map and realized that I probably should have opened it first, because turns out, the Gatineau Hills are simply coloured in with green--no roads are indicated at all. I sighed and got back in my car, and headed aimlessly out. I figured I would either find my familiar piece of road, or discover that I was driving back towards home.

I was wrong.

Several kilometers of confused driving later, I finally pulled over in the parking area of an unfamiliar lookout. I picked up my phone, and dialed MJ. As she answered, and I said, "Hey, MJ; I think I'm lost," the sun sank abruptly below the tree line and I was plunged into utter forested darkness. Then my cell signal faded and dropped the call.

DARKEST AFTER THE DUSK.

The next hour is a terrified blur. I remember driving from one parking area to another, aimlessly driving to picnic areas, hiking trails, and lookouts. I remember repeatedly calling MJ back and getting about 30 seconds of airtime before the signal would fade again. She was searching a giant map of the Hills on her laptop, trying to locate me, and somehow she was always one stop behind me. She implored me to stop driving, and I finally did, tucking my car into a velvety black gravel lot where I was surrounded by trees and the only sign of civilization was a hut on the edge of the clearing. 

I hunkered down low in my car, holding my phone tightly and listening to MJ's attempts to calm me down. All I could think of was that I was lost in an ginormous uncharted national park, in the pitch black, by myself. In a shaking voice I told MJ where I was, and that I had a granola bar, a half-pack of smokes, and a bottle of water to get me through the night. MJ reassured me that I wouldn't be stuck overnight, and suddenly had a great idea: call Andrea, our police officer friend. I agreed with this plan; Andrea had been my confidante through much of my grieving for Brian, and would know exactly where I'd been trying to drive to. MJ hung up on me to call Andrea, then called back to let me know that Andrea had just got off duty, knew exactly where I was, and was headed up to save me. 

It was all over but the waiting.

But waiting is the hardest part.

As I huddled low in my seat, I looked out at the deep black forest and started to freak myself out. I'd been reading a lot of vampire and werewolf books lately--no, not Twilight--and suddenly all those silly mythical monsters didn't seem so mythical. The wood hut, in particular, seemed to be a likely hiding place for a horrible monster that would surely drag me off into the woods and devour my entrails. I faced that terrible dilemma: hide my head under my hood so I couldn't see the looming woods, thereby allowing the ghouls and goblins to sneak up to my car unnoticed; or keep peering around, maintaining a manic vigil on the forest. It was a lose-lose scenario. 

MY WHITE KNIGHT.

As my panic was just reaching its highest point, and my bladder was screaming for me to get out of the car for a pee, there were headlights lighting up the road. I recognized the silhouette of our dear, sweet, heroic Andrea in her car. She pulled up to my driver's side window in a lazy loop, rolled down her window, and in a slow drawl said, "Feeling nostalgic, were we?" 

Andrea guided me home, and I will forever be indebted to her for the rescue. I eventually admitted to Brian what I had done out of my overwhelming grief at losing him. He wasn't nearly as impressed or sympathetic as he should have been. 

I'm so very, very happy that my sweet boy came home to me. The first thing we did upon his return was head to the Gatineau Hills...with Brian navigating, of course.

The Homeownership Continues: our little house with pictures!

Our kitchen!

THE GOOD NEWS

Well, we appear to still be signing things for the new house all the time, and we are waiting on some lawyer documents that I do not understand--thank god for Brian--but I think we can now safely say that we've bought a house. The inspection went pretty well, no doubt because we spent a little extra to get a well-reputed company to do it; they did find some minor things, like a missing hand rail to the basement, and a blocked laundry vent that needs vacuuming. 

THE NOT-SO-GOOD NEWS

They also found a leak in the bathtub drain that is apparently easy to fix. For those of you who recall our old apartment (the one we fled because the bathroom floor had melted under the tiles into a muddy cesspool of black mould), you can imagine the chill that went down my spine upon hearing this news. But we negotiated for repair fees, and all the men (Dad, Inspector, Brian) are in agreement that it's a quick fix, and no mould has begun. Hmm. I'll believe it when I see it fixed, properly, and after I buy my own mould detector. 

Mom inadvertently freaked me out his week by asking me if I was really confident in the inspector; in fact, her exact words were, 'Did he seem professional to you? Did you trust his skills?' Which are good questions to ask, of course, except that she had recommended the inspector, so I have no idea why she would ask me such a thing.

LEARNING TO LET GO

This entire experience has been a lesson in leaning on others. As I'd only joined in with Brian's house hunting a couple weeks ago, I didn't have the time to learn a whole lot about the house buying realm. Consequently, I am grateful that Brian has learned so much, and that my mother is a trained former mortgage broker. Still, it's a bit weird to turn on my internal elevator music and leave my financial wellbeing in the hands of others, no matter how close they are to me. There's strangers involved, too, of course: a mortgage broker, a realtor, a bank giving us this giant loan, an inspector, and a coven of strangers in the form of a condo association. 

I’m actually getting excited now about the whole house thing. I’m excited to be able to leave my windows open without being repeatedly wakened by the sound of 18-wheelers going down the highway. I am so eager to set up my new (smaller but nicer) art/writing/office room, and to have Brian set up in an office of his own so that his myriad school and business papers don’t keep getting left around the house; I’m starting to feel like I live with a humanoid magpie who’s trying to build a nest out of all these papers by plastering every surface of the house with them.

But if someone else wants to PACK for me, be my guest.

Okay, without further ado, here are a few photos to start!

Friday's with Bri - How to not end up on the couch, especially if your wife is a blogger.

Here is a post for all the people whose partners have blogs:

How to not end up on the couch

Jordan and I were just at the most recent SoCapOtt tweet-up where we got to meet some amazing people and have some extremely interesting conversations; and I must say my favourite part of tweet-ups are actually meeting the people you tweet with on a regular basis. That old saying, “putting a face to a name” or in this case, “putting a face to a twitter handle” rings very true. And during these awesome conversations I began talking to the men who were in attendance who jokingly said, “Ohh, you are gonna end up on the couch!” after a couple of my jokes. So on that theme, here are my Brian Bart Kent-Baas (BBKB) tips for not ending up on the couch if your partner is a blogger. (Yes my middle name is Bart.)

#1 Be supportive. (B)

Blogging is a big commitment and it takes a lot to be able to pour your heart and soul into what you write. So be their number one fan, read everything they write; even if it’s printed for you in paper hard copy form. Go to the events where their blog is being celebrated and celebrate the small successes with them even if you don’t understand; ie. finally breaking 1000 hits on their blog is a very cool moment.

#2 Be Understanding. (B)

With blogging comes social media; with social media comes time commitments. Let them have the time to build their brand and really succeed in what they are writing, and genuinely take an interest in it. You don’t have to understand all the technical jargon but at least show that you care.

#3 Keep letting them know you love them. (K)

It is the most horrible experience when a blogger gets their first negative comment on something they write. If it’s a internet troll or just an angry person, getting negativity around your writing is very, very, very hard to take. So let them know no matter what that you love them and that just because there are angry people in the world it is no reason to stop writing. And be ready to show them all the good comments they have received.

#4 Bring them Treats (B)

what is #FF - picture source

Yes, this is a great tip even if your partner isn’t a blogger: random treats and presents are always a good step. You should never need a reason to give your special someone a present, so go out and get them one; they deserve it. And if your partner is on twitter, get them a card with the present and make it say, “#FF (their name) because of how wonderful they are every day”. 

If you don’t know what #FF means it means Follow Fridays and you are telling everyone that you think that everyone should follow your special someone; it's a big deal for the twitter nuts... and it shows that you're paying attention.

With those four tips finished, I realized that there are no “support groups” for the partners of bloggers, and there is no meet-ups for the invisible husbands or wives of all these amazing bloggers. For all those who are reading this on a piece of paper because you don’t know how to read blogs, I want to let all of youknow  that the great thing about us tweeters, bloggers, and social media junkies is that we are able to make conversations out of nothing, and we have those conversations with people we have never met before. So come on out, it's a great way to show that you are using the BBKB steps. Attend social media events, like tweet ups, with your partner; we bloggers never get to meet you and you never know, you may be slowly turned into one yourself.

~Brian

Picture source

Nesting for Real: We bought a house?

I have been procrastinating on writing a blog post all weekend because the one thing I want to blog about, I didn’t want to blog about just yet; but since it’s all I can think about, I’m giving in.

We’ve bought a house.

Well, at least I think we have. We were pre-approved for a mortgage a few weeks ago, but we’re waiting ‘til we hear back on some sort of…post-approval? I have no idea. If you want the fancy terminology, go see Brian. We’re also waiting on the inspection to be done on Tuesday, which is the thing I’m most worried about. After watching my brother struggle for a year with a cracked foundation, I’m being extra cautious about getting my hopes up about this house.

All that being said, I guess we’ve sort of bought a house.

Here are all the things that amaze me about buying a house this week:

1. Despite being utterly and completely nauseated with anxiety, I haven’t actually thrown up yet.

2.a) We found the house after only about three weeks of hunting.

   b) Everyone keeps saying, “Ohhhh; that was faaaaast.” Like that’s something I want to hear, with that worried wobble in your voice? Shuddup, jerk. When your budget is this tiny and your search radius is tight, you figure it out quicker. That’s all.

3. It was actually way less stressful choosing to be with Brian for the rest of my life, than it’s been choosing a home for a minimum five years.

4. The house is in Barrhaven—a suburb of Ottawa often referred to as Farrhaven. Who calls it that? I call it that, that’s who.

5. We will have a basement. Why is this amazing? Because my goal is to never go into it. I’m no longer used to basements and they freak me out. Thanks, Blair Witch Project.

6. We didn’t end up with a garage, which is funny because that was the desire that started us even looking.

7. We have a yard where my dream of a border collie could actually work out.

8. It is now officially too expensive and ‘legal-y’ to ever get divorced.

9. Thanks to the best parents in the world, we will have a dishwasher as a housewarming gift, and that means our marriage has a chance.

10. After only 7 months here, I have to pack again.

It’s been a stressful week. The day that our offer went in, Brian was trying so hard to hold it together and look like he had everything under control, he locked himself out of the car wearing nothing but his gym clothes. Out on Pinecrest Road, with no one to help him. With his wallet locked inside the car, as well. It was funny and horrible all at the same time.

I want to post some photos of the place, and tell you so much more, but I’m a crazy old Irish girl and afraid of jinxing the deal. You’ll have to wait. But for all those young folks out there who’ve been eagerly watching our (albeit short) house hunt, I can tell you since we’ve now taken the plunge: be ready for the most confusing, high-anxiety, complicated experience you’ve yet faced as a couple. Getting married was a walk in the park compared to this insanity. Buckle your seatbelts, fellow house-hunters: it’s a bumpy ride. In a wheelbarrow. Pushed by an epileptic donkey. Downhill. Blindfolded.

Mini post: lessons in house hunting

Notes from our first real day of house hunting:

Like this bathroom? Yeah, me too. It's $50,000 over our budget.

Seeing a flea jumping around on the carpet is like finding a hair in your salad: you can try to remove it and just carry on, but you will never really be able to stomach it.

The queensway (Ottawa's major highway) is very loud and apparently is following us from neighbourhood to neighbourhood. 

 

Apparently at our budget level, we'll be looking at either a charming 2-bedroom murder scene, or a 3-bedroom garden home with bonus former grow-op in the basement.

Apparently looking at houses has changed me. In one neighbourhood I said I didn't like the look of the neighbours. This was after seeing a topless guy, covered in tattoos, wearing cargo shorts and army boots walking a tough-looking dog. I had to remind myself that excepting the topless part, I usually keep my shirt on, I look quite a bit like him most days--tattoos included.

Trying to stick in your budget is pretty much impossible. Again, it's like wedding dresses: there's always something so much more beautiful, if you're only willing to pay 10% more than you could ever possibly afford.

If you want to sell your house, paint it in bright colours. I can't tell if your house is ever going to be sunshiney when you paint it burgundy and forest green.

When you think you've established what you both, as a couple, are looking for, the other one will say something absolutely the opposite right in front of the realtor. And that's what you'll argue about all the way to the next house.