You mean besides the fact that they’re little assholes? Oh, ok, here are a few, dare I subvert the societal expectations that we all settle down, get married, have kids, and consequently ruin our lives–(I would just like to say though that I feel like the list of reasons TO have kids is much shorter/harder to come up with).
1. Having to change their diapers in airplane bathrooms
I can barely fit in those bathrooms by myself, so I’m not about to try to fit another human being AND change their diaper. Also not about to change their diaper, period–they want it changed? They can change it themselves. Welcome to the real world, fuckers.
2. They OWN you.
Say goodbye to ever being able to just do whatever the fuck you want whenever you want–consequences be damned–again. Gone are the days of sleeping in, disregarding the expiration dates on your milk & eggs, not having to safety-proof your outlets, keeping any sharp objects or your extensive liquor collection where any person could ever reasonably find them, having a functional sex life, ever spending a dime on any non-essential items (that necklace you fell in love with at Anthropologie? That was a pipe dream when you were a lonely shrew, so the chances of it happening after you’ve had a kid are about as good as the chances that Georgia O’Keefe’s paintings are not vaginal), considering rolling out of your bed onto the floor a successful start to the day and walking in your door, immediately removing your pants, and falling asleep while cradling a bag of wine on the couch not only an acceptable, but really the only appropriate, way to end a workday, and so on.
Say hello instead to your soft, squishy body that will just get shittier with each mac ‘n cheese dinner*, your never-ending sleep-deprivation, having to explain what “whose” means when it’s just fucking obvious and self-explanatory and if you’d wanted to define things for a living you would’ve become a dictionary, the fact that everything you ever say and do will have an imprint on your child that you can only imagine, and may in fact lead to them becoming a serial killer, having to actually abide by the “microwave safe” directions on the bottom of your cheap dishes, none of which are microwave safe, etc.
Your children are your chastity belt–the cock block to everything good ever–so buckle up (oh that’s another thing, you have to learn how to use a car seat and all the rules about how young is too young for the front seat etc. and have to stop having a beer on your commute home from work blah blah blah).
*(this was also reality pre-children, but now you just have someone you can blame it on)
3. They will obstinately fling themselves into child’s pose on the marble floors of the most densely congested section of the National Gallery, in front of the only da Vinci in the entire museum after a solid 30 minutes of screaming, and the only way you’ll be able to shut them up for 5 minutes is to breastfeed them.
That’s right–in order to placate the little shit, you will have to stick your tit inside their mouth and sacrifice your nipple to their teething. How fucked up is that? Let’s just back up for a minute too to the part where they scream endlessly like a little bitch in public, ruining everything for everyone, and just adopt the attitude of ‘to hell with all regard for others’ existences, I RUN THIS BITCH.’ They are literally the worst, and you are stuck with them until you die (which by this point you are hoping will come sooner than later).
4. You have to pretend to encourage good behavior.
Look, we all know that the best things in life are the ones that are ‘against the rules’–the jig is up. You know that drugs, alcohol & pre-marital sex are fun, you know that healthy food is the Devil’s work, you know that exercise/physical exertion is NOT how the slaves who broke their backs to build this country would want us, as free people, to be spending our time, and the list goes on.
But, you can’t admit this to your children, because if you do, the PTA will come knocking down your door, and you just don’t have time for their sad haircuts. So, for the next 18ish years, you have to keep up the charade of “do what’s right I guess?” and let your kid discover all on their own all the great things life has to offer, while you miss out on the party and they resent you as they enter adulthood and realize all the secrets you kept from them (MOM, why didn’t you tell me how fun teenage pregnancy is, I could be on MTV right now?!).
5. You’re forever linked to your baby daddy/momma.
What if you make a TERRIBLE choice in co-parent, as you most likely will? Well TOO BAD, because you’re linked for the rest of your life to this other person now that you created someone who is half of each of you (how does it feel to know that your child is half-douchebag?). You’re going to have to coordinate pick ups and drop offs where you get to see your former lover’s new, younger, hotter, skinnier, just better girlfriend/boyfriend/partner/husband/wife/prostitute/whatever, just not you.
And if it’s real bad, you’ll have to engage in custody disputes, mediation, trials, competitions to prove you’re the better parent, which means shelling out a lot more than you’re prepared to for Christmas and birthday gifts, and you’ll probably get sucked into shit-talking your ex to your kids because really who could resist. But then your kids resent you for making them the middle-man pawn in your failed relationship, and so they grow up to be upper middle class heroin addicts who wear far too much argyle, and now look what you’ve done.
I could go on and talk about how expensive kids are, how you have to worry about getting them into the best schools, ballet classes, soccer teams, play groups, SAT prep courses, learn what TAG means (“Talented and Gifted” Program), and know that it’s complete bullshit for such a thing to exist in elementary schools, but it exists nonetheless and maybe your kid should be in it and why aren’t they and wait they’re just as talented as Virginia, (maybe not as religious, but that’s a facade waiting to crumble and just because her name has “virgin” in it doesn’t make her a perfect little angel–in fact you’re fairly certain she’s headed for a life in Ho-Town on the Slutsville Express), and WTF does ‘gifted’ even mean, what is this, Harry Potter, because if so, bring it on motherfuckers because my kid is ALL Harry, and I’m seeing a lot of Draco Malfoy up in here.
So, I’ll just leave you with the reminder that our planet is rapidly decaying due to its abuse which is a byproduct of not just overpopulation, but the ignorance that often accompanies it. And the more 19-kid families we have (which ALL start with just 1) using paper plates and plastic utensils for every meal, the more fucked we and the earth progressively become, and if you’re super into endlessly procreating, you may be all like, “well that’s fine, because when the end of the world comes, I know I’ll be saved,” but keep in mind that the Rapture only provides space for, like, not that many people (trust me, whatever the number is, it’s not enough–I wish it would take more of you 700 Club members).
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