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Should I maybe not procreate in the fear that I may loathe my future children?

I’m not a fan of kids, and never really have been. Even as a little kid and you go through those stages of being amazed by babies, I couldn’t really stand them. I used to play with a plastic babydoll that I got to feed and change its diaper, but I was easily bored with it after about a week. It’s not that I hate kids, it’s just that I dislike other peoples kids.

I start to fear that maybe I shouldn’t have kids because of how much I get annoyed with them and wish for them to go away. I know this is a silly fear to have, but I really hope I like my future kids if and when they appear. Yes, I plan to skip that whole giving birth thing.

My one major complaint? They stare, a lot. And usually at absolutely nothing. They have no facial expression either, which I think doubles my anger when I have a child stare at me for twenty minutes, and when the parents don’t do anything about it. My mother always taught me not to stare because it’s rude, so I never get why other peoples kids do it, and the adult just says, “Aint that cute?”

“No.”

At least if a kid is going to stare at me, they could act disgusted, like maybe I have a pimple the size of China on my face, or act pleased because I’m so gosh darn beautiful. But when there is no expression, it just feels like laser eyes barreling into me, and I try to dodge them the best I can and ignore their existence, but those itty bitty eyes get under my skin.

I’ve also never been able to actually “talk” to kids. I remember one time a friend said I would make a great elementary school teacher and I thought she was being sarcastic. Apparently she was serious and it should have been my career path and my response was, “You clearly don’t know me.”

Here is how a typical conversation is between a child and myself:

child: Look Jessie, the sky is blue today!

Me: Are you joking? The sky is blue every day….

child: Do you know what 2+2 equals?

Me: four…next question…

child: Guess what I ate today?

Me: What what what?! Tell me because I’m dying to hear! (sarcasm)

child: I want to be an astronaut when I grow up.

Me: The chances of that happening are real slim.

I’m not actually this mean in conversation, but my patience meter shows that I’m about to blow up in frustration over a conversation about what color the grass is.

I was a horrible babysitter too. We had a neighbor that paid me well to sit for their two kids. Their son was 4 and their daughter was about 1. Their daughter wouldn’t stop crying as soon as their mother left and I tried everything I could think of to entertain her. She sat up on her brothers bed and I started flinging the curtains above her head which made her laugh as she tried to catch it. I didn’t think about the fact that she couldn’t balance on her own and she rolled off the bed and landed head first between the bed post and the heater. She screamed so loud I thought my ear drums were going to pop and bleed all over the floor. I tried to calm her down, and naturally I see that their mother has barely made it to her car yet and heard the screaming. She ran in and asked what happened and I just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. She just started crying and I don’t know why.”

I was too much of a coward then to say, “Well I wasn’t paying attention and your kid rolled off the bed and onto the hard wood floor. And I’m still trying to shield the fact that I’m laughing on the inside.” —> I was like, thirteen and they gave me money. I wasn’t going to screw that up.

I’ve actually had nightmares that I leave my own children in the grocery store, or in my shopping cart in the mall. It’s like conceited Jess snaps out of it and is like, “wait a minute. The human I have created is not with me. Where the hell is my human!” A social media war will break out and call me a horrible mother, stone me, and scare me out of town. Thank you to Facebook and Twitter, and it would be big news within a couple of hours.

So the question is, procreate or not procreate? I know for a fact that I will actually like my kids, and I will be so brainwashed to believe that my own children would never be annoying just like the rest of the parents out there. Plus, I really like the idea of embarrassing them somehow. Like dropping my daughter off at school and yelling from the window, “By the way, I noticed you ran out of tampons again! Do you need me to pick up the Jumbo pack today? Cause I can do that!”

I will make a terrific mom.

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