Is it Too Late Not to Have Kids?
June 4, 2009, by Prudence Baird
For Prudence Baird, shopping for camping gear with her teenage son makes climbing mountains child’s play.
Ah, teenagers. You gotta love ‘em. Or not.
Just at the time your peers who had the smarts to drop their litters in their twenties or early thirties—or perhaps the smartest ones who decided not to have kids at all—are decorating a second home in the Hamptons or having their teeth capped and eyelids “done,” you are hauling an ungrateful hunk of hormones to R.E.I. to buy a backpack for his school’s mandatory weeklong trek in the Green Mountains; an outing designed to build esprit-de-corps.
A typical exchange begins subtly. “I don’t see why I have to go.”
Like a symphony, it builds, “What’s the point of going camping?” and “Why did you make me go to this school?”
Here comes the bridge: “Why did you force us to leave Los Angeles?”
Like the concert-goer who cannot suppress a cough during a quiet movement, and knowing full well that I will engender ire, I blurt, “C’mon, honey. You’re the one who said you’d like to go to this school.”
But there is no room for the truth in a hot-blooded diatribe whose dual purposes are to sever the umbilical cord that binds mother and son, and to immolate the oedipal link by first soaking it in gasoline, then throw a burning match on it while yelling something pithy like, “Ha! Take that you villainous harridan, source of original sin and adolescent angst!”
Instead he settles for: “You’re lying. I wanted to stay with my friends. I was happy in Los Angeles.”
I decide the Gandhian approach is best.
“Okay.”
“You’re just saying, ‘okay’ because you know I’m right.”
No, I’m just say ‘okay’ because I’m not willing to start WWIII in a 2007 Subaru with a defenseless Bedlington terrier listening in.
“And you don’t want to admit you’re wrong.”
And? There has to be a Part B.
“And you’re wrong. You’re always wrong.”
Inside the store, where I fear turning around to check whether he is following me lest I be turned into stone, I pretend I am part of some other family. One where the kids rush ahead of the parents, eagerly crawling inside each and every tent, squeezing sleeping bags to check which one is softest, and grabbing elevation maps from the broad flat drawers where they’re kept. “Let’s go here! Can we stay longer? Please, Mom, please?” Ah, but that is some other family whose voices I hear.
If this were a movie, this would be the scene where the music swells, and as tears trickle down my cheeks, memories of this teenage creature’s most endearing moments flash through my head. Him, in footsie pajamas, banging on pots and pans as I step around him in the kitchen whilst making dinner. Him, proudly presenting me with his first clay sculpture that is supposed to be a sea monster but looks just like an erect penis. Him, strapped into his car seat, rosy cheeked and singing, “We can fly, we can fly, we can fly!”
I awake from my reverie when I hear the universal cry of the fledgling adult, “Mom! Mom!”
Since there is no reflective surface which I can peer into to ensure he’s not holding a weapon, slowly I turn….to find him holding a bizarre looking shoe that looks like it’s made from garbage held together with Gorilla Glue.
“These are cool! Can we get them?”
He misinterprets the shock in my eyes as rejection. Disappointment flickers across his brow but before it solidifies into defiance, I reach across the ages and pull that endearing child close to me.
“Let’s try them on,” I enthuse, latching onto his rare use of first person plural. “They’re, uh, cool!” He does a double take, searching my face for a moment, and then squats down to look for his size on the shoe boxes below.
“If you’re sure…”
I am SO sure. Apparently, this hike is building esprit de corps—as long as I can afford it.
June 4th, 2009 at 7:16 am
Laughing and tearing and remembering oh so well. I look forward to hearing his enthusiasm when he returns from the trip.
You are fabulous in bringing life’s moments into perspective!
YEA
June 4th, 2009 at 11:15 am
My hat (wig) off to you midlife moms, or any moms, especially those dealing with teenagers. I don’t have kids, nor a house in the Hamptons, but I’ve been observing friends in varying stages of child-rearing over the years. The ones who had kids later are more patient but perhaps a bit less tolerant then the ones who popped ‘em out in their twenties. All of the moms, whether young or mature, miss the days when their offspring were sweet and cuddly tots and loathe those angst-ridden teen years. Prudence, you’re doing great. Watch your back and ride the waves, this phase shall pass. Oh and that “other family” you mention, ummm, it doesn’t exist, except perhaps in Father Knows Best reruns.
June 4th, 2009 at 11:17 am
Prudence, you are so good! How can a person turn the angst of being a mom into something so funny you almost wish you’d had a kid? Or not.
June 4th, 2009 at 11:44 am
Ditto and back at ya.
June 4th, 2009 at 4:11 pm
a wonderful journey into the hearts and minds of a teenage boy who want to be independent & is not quite ready and the mother is keenly aware of the traps of saying the wrong thing. You captures the moments with humor and with metaphors of music as we were your invisable friends along for the ride in the car and in REI… thanks for another eloquent snapshot!
June 4th, 2009 at 6:50 pm
Pru–This too shall pass, and some equally challenging “phase” shall replace it. I was still apologizing to my mother for my having been an adolescent till she died, and I was in my late 40s. Whaddayagonnado?
June 5th, 2009 at 9:29 am
My husband and I are childless by choice. Nuf said on that. But I admire and respect the challenges you’ve taken on by loving and raising children. Our planet will be better not because of how you raised your babies, but by how you’ve raised your grown-ups. Hang in there girl.
June 8th, 2009 at 9:00 am
Isn’t it amazing that, the same kid who can make you so angry you feel your head will pop off, can suddenly turn around and melt your heart… even if it means they just want something? They are true GENIUSes. Hang in there Prudence. Were all in this together.
June 8th, 2009 at 2:54 pm
I’m the one that should have the magnet on my fridge which says “Oh crap! I meant to get married and have some kids.”
God bless the mothers! I have a friend with a child who just finished 7th grade. I spent a night with this child and four of her friends (end of school sleepover) and I am here to tell you those girls scared the crap out of me. I said it once and I’ll say it again, “God bless the mothers.”I was just with another friend whose son is now 22. At 16 he was a pain in the ass. Now he is a delightful, engaging, considerate, young human being. It happens.
June 8th, 2009 at 3:05 pm
At the Putney School graduation ceremony yesterday, the school’s director wove into her address this gem, “You’ll not know until you have your own children how very much your parents love you–and worry about you.” My fear is that my son will never have children and therefore not know this time-honored truth. He’ll go to his grave thinking that his mother was a neurotic psychopath armed with sunscreen and condoms, constantly babbling something about eating more vegetables and avoiding McDonald’s hamburgers.