Barnabas Monkeypants

I’ve already written about how I just love it when people tell me that I’m a bad father, and I’ve got another gripe, one that Kristen and I have been hearing a lot of lately.

As you know, Henry is currently our only child. That may change (and we would, of course, keep you updated), but we have not decided whether or not to have another baby. There are many factors to this, though none of which are of the emotional type (we have plenty of love for one another and for Henry and adding another child would not diminish it one bit).

One factor is money. Babies are really, really expensive, not just the whole giving birth thing (which we’re still paying off — one more payment to the anesthesiologist to go), but then the diapers, the toys, the beds, the childcare. It adds up quite fast. (In fact, I was thinking to myself of how little I’ve spent on me since Henry was born. In that time, I’ve bought 3 books and one drastically reduced DVD box set. I’m not complaining one bit, though; Henry’s much better than comic books.)

Another is time. As much as I love playing with Henry and giving him baths and changing his diapers and rocking him to sleep, it’s positively exhausting, leaving you with very little time to do anything other than cook, clean, and sit on the couch moaning. That’s with one child. I can’t imagine two. Or three. While emotionally we’d be fine with more than one child, would we have enough time to give to all of them?

But regardless if we feel we have the money and time to have another baby, it’s pretty much our decision and people — strangers, especially — who cry, “Oh, no! You can’t have only one!” have about as much influence on us as Bill O’Reilly has people skills. (The answer to that is, obviously, none.)

We’ve heard all of the reasons why we have to have another child. He’ll be lonely. (We live in the third most populous city in America. There are plenty of kids for him to play with.) He’ll be selfish. (So Kristen and I have no influence on his ability to share and play well with others?) Later in life, he’ll be a loner. (I have a sister — a wonderful sister, by the way — and I hate being around people more than any single child I’ve ever met.) He’ll be spoiled. (Look, we will gladly spoil all of our children equally whether we have one or five.)

I’m not sure any of those arguments hold water and are about as accurate as common stereotypes like Italians being inhernently romantic or Asians being good at math or first born children being different than last born.

You’d think that in an age where we are, if not the most educated, able to quickly and accurately research via the Internet all manner of old wives’ tales, people would stop telling you things that are untrue.

So what I’m saying is this: having another child would be fantastic and wonderful and its cries would be music to my ears. But I think the decision would be up to us and not some strange lady with lipstick on her teeth. That’s right: I’m talking to you, Edith at the CVS!

This entry was posted on Monday, January 5th, 2009 at 11:51 am and is filed under Barnabas. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.