I don’t think I could ever go skydiving.
I know a lot of people see it as a bid adventure, and I think I’d probably like it. But could I really do it? I don’t know.
What gets me is the “jump out of the plane” part. There you are, how many thousands of feet in the air, and you’re going to intentionally fling yourself out into the great wide open expanse of sky, hoping a thin piece of material catches you?
Sounds sketchy to me.
I’m also slightly afraid of children. Sounds dumb, right?
Not afraid, really. It’s more that I don’t know how to act around them. My younger sister is only 18 months younger. I rarely babysat as a kid, and a post-grad school overseas stint as a nanny didn’t last long or endear me to 4-year-old Italian boys.
So when a girl I know mentioned not long ago that she and her boyfriend-to-be-husband someday aren’t going to have kids, I couldn’t blame her.
LOOK OUT!!! KA-SMACK! [This is where an ACME safe falls on my head.]
NO KIDS??? At all?? EVER? REALLY?
It’s not that such a decision is that shocking I suppose. What’s more shocking is that I would even question it. These days, it’s not like women are child-churning factories expected to stay home with babies and do little else.
But in the past, she has occasionally mentioned the casual, “When I have a daughter someday, I’ll dress her up in that” or “when I have kids I’ll do x-y-z” or whatever along those lines.
Of course, now we’re older and we each know more about ourselves and what we want.
No kids = more money, more travel, sex, fun with the love of your life. Freedom from crying babies, 2 a.m. feedings, teething, saggy boobs from breastfeeding, teenagers who talk back and sneak out of the house.
Hmmm … sounds sketchy to me. Maybe my friend is onto something.
But every parent I’ve ever talked to says the experience is rewarding beyond your imagination. You just can’t understand it until you’ve done it on your own.
What really hits me is how much I love spending time with my parents now that I’m an adult. I love seeing my siblings, one now with his own children, get together with our parents for family gatherings. I love hanging out with my boyfriend’s family. I just can’t imagine someday not having grown adult children of my own who come home for Christmas.
My friend’s comments were made offhand in a group setting, so I have yet to dissect her reasoning. She’s a strong woman, so I doubt it’s a decision she made lightly.
For me, it’s going to be like skydiving. Yes, I’m scared. But it’s an adventure. And as my other brother, now with three kids, says, “You’re never ready. You just have to jump into it.”