[QUOTE=1920s Style “Death Ray”]
I’ll bite, what does having kids do to people’s personalities?
[/QUOTE]
I think Erma Bombeck referred to it as “the manger mentality” or sometimes “the mommy cocoon.” It doesn’t happen to all parents, but it’s happened to all but one couple I know who have kids. The difference is very striking, and more than a bit horrifying.
You no longer have conversations about art, or music, or the state of the world, or their jobs, or your other friends. They have monologues about the consistency of their child’s stool, or the cute thing he said/did the other day, or what percentile he hit on the height/weight charts at the last checkup, or what cartoons he likes. Sometimes, they treat you to your umpteenth blow-by-blow retelling of the saga of his birth. They will, once in a blue moon, let you get a word in edgewise, but while you’re talking, they’re thinking about how to turn things back toward the kid. It’s like the person you once knew has been replaced with a pod person–or one of those dolls with a string in the back and 10 pre-recorded messages, all of them about the kid.
It was, quite honestly, a big chunk of our initial decision not to have kids–I’d rather slit my own throat here and now than become one of those people. Up till that point, I’d always sort of figured I’d have kids–eventually. Then my friends started popping them out, and the possibility went right out the window. They had no privacy, no quiet, and no identity of their own, and I didn’t want any of those things for myself. I still don’t. Hell, I’ve even got my own room in our house to get away from my husband and the dogs when I need to.
Do I have regrets? Lord, no. I pretty much have the best of all possible worlds. When I get the chance to make it home, I have my little niece. She’s an amazingly sunny-natured kid, and she seems awfully fond of me. We crawl around in the floor giggling and having tea parties and having those sweet little moments. Then, when she’s tired and overstimulated and on the verge of a meltdown and has a load in her pants, one of us goes home. Then I’ve got peace and quiet to read or sew or garden, or whatever I want or need to do. And because I don’t have kids of my own using up my resources, I’m able to do all sorts of things for her I couldn’t otherwise.