We were sitting at the restaurant picnic table, entertaining three of our five nieces with jokes and songs over a long wait for food, when 8-year-old Annabelle turned to my husband — her Uncle Rich — and asked, "Why don't you and Aunt Shawna have any kids?" Her eyes turned to me across the table, then to her mom's, perhaps wondering if she had asked the wrong question.
"Because they're a pain in the butt!" Rich said with a mischievous smile, leaning toward her. Her eyes opened wide at the unexpected answer and naughty word. The other kids giggled.
"I'm not a pain in the butt!" she exclaimed. Maybe even a little offended, as she and her sisters had been arguing over who got to sit next to him just moments before. This was the (f)uncle who had pushed her and her sibling all day on the swings, shared his Star Wars toys, and introduced her to licorice, after all. Grandma, sitting nearby, looked surprised.
"No, you're not. But a lot are," Rich answered, just about when Annabelle's little sister, 6-year-old Lily, started to melt down from the heat and the long wait. I laughed, thinking, "That's my guy, the one with no filter."
Their mother stepped in. "People don't have kids for lots of different reasons," she said, leaving it at that as the appetizers arrived and we turned our attention elsewhere.
The issue didn't come up again over the long holiday weekend, but it had for years before, when we first met in our 20s, then married in our 30s, with a few relatives asking what we were waiting for.
My polite answers at first were meant to keep them at bay: "Let me finish grad school," or "We'd like to buy a house first," to which we got responses like, "There is never a perfect time! Just do it!" Rich suggested I state, "I'm barren," just to see their reactions.
The truth was that neither of us could imagine adding another person into our mix. We were both financially struggling artists for many years — he a musician, me a writer — who lived with low overhead and found ways to travel, eat well, and make time for friends, family, and creative work, and quite liked it that way.
When our siblings had kids, and there were grandchildren to enjoy, some of the heat was taken off of us.
Many said we would change our minds, yet here we are in our 50s, content with our decision. And anyone who knows us knows we are not kid haters. In our roles as auntie, uncle, godparents, and mentors, I hope we have been a source of love and support for those who chose to have children.
To the age-old question, "Who will care for you when you're old?" I say that is what our retirement fund is for. And be honest, any caregiver can tell you that not every adult child even desires or is capable of caring for their older parents. To me that seems the weakest reason to procreate.
By knowing our limitations for the all-in forever commitment that good parenting requires, we have shown love to ourselves by honoring our own wishes despite societal pressure. For us this decision means one less unwanted child in the world, less resources used, more flexibility to help with our own aging parents, and more time together as two middle-aged adults.