Wrangler Dani

[the recent ‘toughest job in the world’ ad that’s overtaking Facebook] reveals a troubling attitude; an attitude that makes these sorts of commercials so effective; an attitude that portrays parenting as the most torturous endeavor anyone could possibly attempt.

I’m all for being real with people, but all we accomplish is making otherwise fine young men and women utterly petrified of starting a family. They constantly hear that you’ll never sleep, your life is over, and you’ll never have fun again, unless you learn to define ‘fun’ as ‘poopy diapers and bankruptcy.’ And then we wonder why birthrates are plummeting? -Matt Walsh (read the whole thing here.)

I cannot tell you how many times we’ve been told to “enjoy it now” (whatever “it” is) and been given the rueful head-shake and “just wait, when you have kids…” insinuating that life with a child is somehow the suburban equivalent to boot-camp.

To be fair, I don’t have kids. But if I didn’t have an ache in my heart the size of Alaska, I would probably have been talked out of it by now, because of the glee that so many parents seem to take in discouraging us childless people.

From my perspective, it’s obvious that yes, you parents have a demanding and often overwhelming job. Everybody does, though, right? No one gets a path paved in roses just by virtue of being awesome or working hard. In fact, parents get called out in sappy videos like the one Matt Walsh mentions, and given roses on Mother’s Day at little country chapels and giant megachurches. Do you know what I do, on Mother’s Day? I call my mom and I send cards to my mother and stepmother in law. I do not go to church because I do not want the sweet little Jr High students to give me a flower. I do not want to see babies and toddlers in their dresses and polo shirts, and I don’t want to see moms heading out to brunch with their families. I don’t begrudge those moms that celebration – certainly they’ve earned it and they should rejoice in the gift of family. So rejoice, friends! But don’t tell me, with your arms full of squirmy toddler, that I should be thrilled to go home and eat lunch with my husband and cat, on a day that makes my heart ache.

Moms get to use their hips as baby-carriers and their arms as cuddlers. They get to soothe and feed and nurture and hold tight and let go. So, please, people with kids – I have a request as your token childless friend. Tell me about your baby. Let me hear about Minnie Mouse from your toddler. Grant me glimpses into your world without sighing about how lucky I am to be childless.

I don’t feel lucky, and to be honest, I don’t even think you believe it. I think you’ve been told by our culture that that’s what you should say to your childless friend. You think that telling me about how you can’t eat dinner anymore and you’re always tired will make me feel better. But the truth is, it doesn’t. Because I know that everything in life is a trade-off – you work more and get paid more, but you sleep less, or you have a great marriage but you have to say no to outside influences. For you, moms, you probably are tired and busy, but you also get this amazing gift of motherhood.

Don’t keep that gift from me by only telling me spilled milk stories. Don’t keep us childless friends locked out of the beauty, grace, joy, laughter, difficulty, messiness, activity and fatigue that is your life. I’m not lucky to be childless, and I don’t want to be told a blatant falsehood any more.