No kids for me, thanks

Children make me... uncomfortable. **deep shudder down my spine**

I'm not sure if I've always been this way... but yes, yes, I think I have. I think it even started when I was a kid. I was that creepy antisocial kid who wouldn't speak when you asked me why my leg was bleeding. I was that five-year-old who freaked out and ran when the sixth grade girls reminded me to flush the toilet in the elementary school bathroom. And now, twenty years later, I tremble in my boots when I pass a group of "cool" highschoolers on a crowded sidewalk. I look into the parents' faces when their angelic toddler is asking me for "boobewwies" in her smoothie and ask them what they want to order, ignoring their little princess entirely. It's so weird. I can't quite seem to categorize this quirk of mine into one neat packaged diagnosis with a pink bow checkmarked on top. What I DO know is that just this year I've started being able to hold my baby nephew and not worry about him crying in my arms, and I can actually babysit my four-year-old niece without worrying that I'll be crying in her arms by the end of the night. It's not that I'm not maternal at all... is it? I mean, I think my most infamous quote was when I said to my siblings, "It's not that I'm not maternal... it's just that it doesn't come naturally to me." They pointed out that that is EXACTLY what not being maternal is. Whoops. But I mean... I dunno. I definitely care about people sooooo much! And I'm very maternal when it comes to my friends and family-- I'll be the first person to help you clean yourself up if you get sick from drinking too many kamikazees. And I'd like to think that if someone is sad or hurt or having a bad day, I do what I can to offer my love and support. But when it comes to taking care of children, I've always been the first person to shout "Nose goes!" and run from the room tapping the sunburned tip of my own nose ferociously. There are just so many RULES about caring for children!!! Like, all these unsaid "obvious" things that apparently eeeeeeverybody knows except for poor ol' (singlewhitefemale). 


When I saw my new nephew Liam for the first time he was just a teeny tiny little baby, probably... six weeks old? Maybe less? I was so proud of myself for not being scared of him. I was balls-out competing with my sister Hannah ("the baby whisperer") to hold him, and when he was in my arms I instantly felt my heart melting. I was so impressed with his minute perfection, from the tiny tips of his rosy fingers to the fine wisps of blonde fuzz curling at the crown of his head. I gazed at him, hypnotized by the rhythmic rising and falling of his perfect lungs in his baby ribcage. He cocked his head to the side and studied a fly on the wall, taking in his surroundings and amusing me with his cleverness. Or so I thought, until Hannah walked over to me and stuffed my arm under his head, explaining that I needed to support his neck.


Shit. 


When Liam's older brother Aiden was about two years old, Hannah and I were visiting him and my sister Brooke in Palo Alto. Aiden was in his crib fighting desperately not to fall asleep for his nap, while we watched him on the baby monitor video and discussed where we wanted to go for a scenic walk that afternoon. We decided on a park and Brooke gave me the option of us either leaving right away or waiting 'til after Aiden woke up from his nap. I was confused. "Now" sounded better to me... but... it made me really uncomfortable to think about leaving Aiden all by himself while we all went for a walk. What if he needed something? What if he started crying? Or got hungry or something? Yeah, that's messed up, I thought, and bolstered by my selflessness I said loudly to Brooke that we had better wait because I didn't think it was right to leave Aiden here in the house by himself. My sisters just stared at me, stunned. I don't remember their exact words, because I started blushing so badly that my ears were ringing, but the gist was "OF COURSE WE'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE HIM ALONE (YOU SEXY, BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL PERSON)! HE WOULD COME WITH US NOW, OR WE WOULD LET HIM TAKE A NAP FIRST (YOU GORGEOUS AND INTELLIGENT BEING)!"Everything in parenthesis is what they meant to add on but carelessly forgot in their excitement. Needless to say, I was crossed off the list of potential Aiden-sitters for a while.

What's funny is that no matter how old I get, kids can still get to me really easily and make me feel insecure. One Christmas, years ago, my extended family was all decorating gingerbread houses and someone was explaining where their gingerbread "people" were going to go. You know how sometimes everyday words sound foreign and un-wordy? Well, I was having one of those moments and I was muttering quietly to myself, "people," "pee-pull," "pea-poll," etc., etc., when my cousin Whitney, twelve years younger than me, turned to me and said quite accurately,

"You're weird."

Everyone laughed so hard that Skittles shot out of their noses and fell into their gumdrop trees. I laughed nervously for five seconds and then pretended to be passionately engrossed in the icing on the Redvine sled I was crafting self-consciously in my lap.

Kids are just brutally honest. That's where that expression, "from the mouth of babes" came from, right? Wait, is that a bible quote? Err... I dunno, but it's definitely SOMEthing. When I was dating my college boyfriend I went to his sister's wedding in the Bay Area. I got this adorable, retro-ish floral mini-dress just for the occasion. It was on sale at Banana Republic and I felt so grown-up and sophisticated when I posed for myself in the dressing room wearing this fabulous dress, and I was so excited to wear it to the wedding. I was helping set up all the decorations, and when it was time to change I rushed upstairs and threw it on. But where did it go? I stood, staring into the mirror at the lack of fabric that failed to cover more than my upper thigh. Maybe no one will notice that my vagina is about to be added to the guest list of appearances?? I didn't know what else to do, so I composed my body language into an over-confident strut down the stairs to meet my beau and his friends. I noticed as I was walking down the stairs that the old man sitting with his walker below me could see absolutely every inch of my thighs, hamstrings, and bare buttocks thanks to the thong I wore under my shirt-- I mean-- dress. When I reached my boyfriend and his friends they all raised their eyebrows and politely commented that my hair looked nice, making a point not to stare at the entirety of my stems jutting out from the two-inch band of fabric across my crotch area. It was then that the groom's niece pushed through our group and walked straight up to me:

"Where are your bottoms???"

I died.

"Uh... this is a dress...." I was so thankful that everyone decided to be temporarily deaf and not even laugh at the embarrassment beading up sweatily on my red forehead. I spent the entire ceremony nabbing people's discarded sweaters to cover my ass (literally) because I discovered immediately that upon sitting, the dress failed to cover more than my belly button. I could feel muffled laughter beside me, but I was still not ready to laugh about the fact that the sun reflecting off my white bottom was creating shafts of glittering light that competed for attention with the beautiful couple exchanging vows in front of me. The SECOND the ceremony was over, I rushed upstairs and threw jeans on under the dress, mortified by how many members of this family I had shown my goods to in the last hour. I was guzzling champagne in grief when I heard my boyfriend call out to me to get in the family pictures. I choked on my bubbly and yelled back in dread, "SHOULD I TAKE MY PANTS OFF??!" I'll never forget the way everyone's jaws dropped in perfect synchronism and how my boyfriend's frowning head started shaking back and forth as he sighed at me to "just get in the picture (singlewhitefemale)."

Maybe that's what it is.... Maybe kids don't react with society's common courtesy to my social awkwardness. They call me out on my shit and don't let me get away with bumbling awkwardly along while everyone around me pretends it's perfectly fine that I'm maniacally tapping flute notes on my fingers and hissing next to you in line for the ATM. Huh. Maybe that's it, I dunno. What I do know is that I have fallen head-over-heels in love with my niece and two nephews, which has truly changed my life. However... they are the ONLY exceptions to my fear of children. Anyone not related to me, forget about it. When one even walks near me I back away slowly, nervously sticking my hand out to let it get used to my scent so it won't bite me.

It's not that I'm not maternal, it's just that it doesn't come naturally to me.