Monday, October 27, 2008

parenthood.

I am twenty-four. Angela is twenty-three. We’re practically spring chickens. Right? I mean, based on our fairly conservative, non-smoking, always-look-both-ways-when-crossing-the-street lifestyle, I would gage that we both have somewhere between sixty and eighty years of life left in us. Maybe more if we lay off the Diet Coke and cellular telephones. That leaves us plenty of time to engage in the archetypal activities of adulthood—traveling, investing, quietly developing hemorrhoids, shopping at JC Penny, replacing the rock n’ roll music in our CD cases with whole albums of ocean sounds, and perhaps most importantly, procreating.

But if you compare us with our peer group (straight, college-age, suburban, excruciatingly white, Mormon newlyweds), we are falling behind at a rather alarming pace—especially when it comes to that “procreation” part. Some of our friends and acquaintances are on their second or third pup by now. All the potentially sharp edges in their homes are behind flimsy plastic gates or under multiple layers of egg-carton foam. But not our house. It’s a virtual death trap. A child probably wouldn’t survive ten minutes. We keep our knives in a knee-high drawer. Our poisonous cleaning products sit on the tile of the pantry floor, just inches from bottles of organic lemonade. Once we left our iron piping hot and sitting on the carpet for nearly two hours because we got wrapped up in an episode of Law and Order: SVU (and then Monk, which came on right after it). What kind of environment is that for a child?

In essence, we just haven’t yet converted to the parental way of thinking. If you ask me how old my twin nephew and niece are, I will tell you they are one year old and be done with it. A true parent, on the other hand, thinks differently. “Oh Olivia here, she’s twenty-two and a half months.” The conversation comes to a dead halt while I carry a six or contemplate what to do with a remainder of nine. I eventually give up. “So what’s that make her, like four?”

But this isn’t to say that Angela and I don’t want kids. We do. Especially Angela. She makes a real spectacle of herself whenever we encounter a newborn, infant, toddler or other variety of pre-adult. She fawns over them, suddenly unable to compose a cohesive sentence. Sometimes I think she is silently coveting the child. Or even waiting for the parent to look away so she can snatch the baby and run. I await the day when a valley-wide Amber Alert warns of a brown-haired, twenty-something woman in a slate grey, late model Mazda. She’d be spotted heading south on I-10. The authorities would assume that she was en route to Mexico, but they’d be wrong—just on her way to the Baby Gap outlet in Casa Grande.

But I think having a child will be far more fulfilling if it’s legitimately ours. Things always seem more worthwhile when you work for them. And I can only imagine what it would feel like to hold in my arms a little creature of my own creation. It’d have my nose or Angela’s feet. I’d be really excited to watch it to grow. Forget ounces and pounds. Everyday I’d compare its size to the breadbox that sits on our kitchen counter. “Angela, Angela! Guess what? He’s definitely bigger than a breadbox!” When it was older I’d teach it all about the interesting nuances of humanity like blue darts and that thing with Mentos and Diet Coke. The whole prospect excites me very much, especially with all the Hollywood stars that seem to be endorsing parenthood lately. I figure if a coked-out Brad Pitt can handle a half dozen kids, so can I.

But the real question is “Am I really ready for that kind of responsibility?” and honestly, I’m not sure of the answer. A little less than half the plants we’ve bought since we got married are now dead. I guess that gives the hypothetical kid about a fifty percent chance of survival. Sixty percent on a good day. I figure if worst comes to worst, we could always have another one.

18 comments:

mad white woman said...

I'd be happy to tell you how to have your very own kid.

Most men are never ready for that responsibility... even after they have several kids. Ha ha ha.

kayleen said...

don't let the idea of responsibility scare you. after they learn how to hold their own bottle, they virtually take care of themselves.

i barely even notice mine anymore.

Kathryn said...

My wise sister once said that you start trying to have kids once your husband (that would be you) is about 90% ready, because really you'll never be ready.

One regret of my life: Not having kids earlier. I don't regret having the experiences I had while waiting, but I wish I could have experienced all the joys and hard work sooner.

I'm excited to see what characters you two will create. Such fun.

cherryl said...

oh clint you are too funny. that just cracked me up. i think you guys are ready, i mean arent you just so curious to see what your children will be like? they will have no choice but to be unique, unless ofcourse they rebel from their parents and become, complete trendy followers?! either way it is an amazing process to watch a child grow. i seem to never want to stop having them... ha ha. :)

Lindsey Kilpatrick said...

Are you really supposed to move the toxic things out of arms reach? Huh, I guess I shouldn't let my kid play with the spray paint cans or toilet bowl cleaner anymore. This parenting thing is all about trial and error. In all seriousness, I think your original plan of having a bambino in a year or so is great. By them I think I can talk Kenny into having another. This time we are hoping for quad though.

angela hardison said...

I love you, even though you're going to make me be the 'mean' parent.

Anonymous said...

Really and truely let's count how many of us don't have little ones......3 couples.....you, us....oh wait..2!!! I feel Angela's pain, and Aaron shares your humor about the situation! thanks for the laugh.

blakeblakeblakeblake said...

Son, by the time I was your age, I had 3 kids--so I guess that puts me smack dab in the middle of your statistics for the other side. Maybe not the middle. Okay, the right. But look at my kids. Aren't they awesome! My third one, born right at the age you are writing this (comparatively speaking of course), is plumb full of creative talent, writing the best blog posts in the world. I mean the universe. I'm not trying to put any pressure on you to produce a child in the magical 24th year. Your posterity is destined to be creative no matter when they come. But if parenthood corresponds with the Chinese names for years, the 24th year of life is surely the Year of the Creative Genius. I have evidence.

Anonymous said...

ok, so this was just outright funny. what a clever husband angela has. you two are pretty much the cutest blog couple ever to grace the face of cyberspace.

ryan hoffman photography said...

it's always funny when ryan & i run into people from the wards we grew up in, or people from high school who already have kids, and they make trailing comments like, "oh you've been married for a while now..." i just laugh. thanks for being so interested in our procreation plans, sister so-and-so.

angela - i am sure that i will be the "mean parent" also.

TheMoncurs said...

We had 2 cats for a year before deciding they were too much work and giving them away.

Then we had a turtle for a year before we also decided that was too much work and setting him free in an obliging pond.

And I don't even bother buying plants because they just die on me.

And yet! Wes lives. Thrives even!

(I secretly suspect my mother of coming in at night and feeding him and teaching him stuff since I don't think his development is attributable to anything I'm doing)

Jill said...

I love how child rearing is always compared to having plants. Isn't that funny? I hope kids are heartier ... otherwise they will be withering in my house. They will probably get more attention since they actually make noise and smell funny.

Ryan said...

Congratulations!!!!

angela hardison said...

Haha, funny Ryan.

angela hardison said...

New post, new post, new post.

jeanne said...

love both your blogs... don't know either of you... just found you on blogspot.com. thanx for making me laugh! btw, our sons are grown now; it was a blast. lifelessonsatnearly60.blogspot.com/

SIDNEY said...

im told at the gym that i should wait til im 35 to have a child..and then the reasoning of marrying a much younger woman starts to make sense. but then you'd have to raise 2 people, right? so maybe waiting until youre 28ish is better.

personally, i hope youre both the mean parents. kids have it too good nowadays.

Chris said...

Very well written! nicely done.
My wife is 24 and im 26 and we are in the same situation.
Let's see how it goes!
Blessings.