I have an imaginary list of Why I'll Never Have Kids which echoes, humorously I hope, the Ferengi Rules of Acquistion.  For non-Trekkies (not Trekkers - a term I despise and refuse to use), this is an equally-imaginary list adopted by a group of alien merchants in the Star Trek universe.  They're often referred to as the plot calls for it, when said Ferengi would spout something like "Well, remember Rule of Acquisition Number 1:  Once you have their money, never give it back!"  Then they'd chuckle or smile greedily after saying that.  There have been other memorable ones such as "Never let family get in the way of business," but I'm not enough of a Trekkie to remember all of them, or even what number the latter Rule is.

That being said, my imaginary list has never been fully written out, but I pretend that it's now into the many hundreds by now.  I reference it after a child has done something terribly unappealing in my presence, which is most of the time, and say something like "Well, there's reason 387 not to have children."  So far, only one person has ever called me on my "list," with the incredulous question, "Really?  You... you have a list, and it's that long?"

Some people are unclear on the concept.

I used to think I wanted kids.  As a child, or specifically, that Picturing My Wedding and Picturing Myself With Kids period of my life, I first figured that One was fine.  I'd have one kid.  Then some woman - a friend of my mother's, I suppose - insisted that only children are terribly, terribly lonely.  Have at least two.  Er... okay, two, then.  At some later time, the number had increased to three.  I don't recall why.  Probably to anticipate the possibility of having two boys or two girls, as opposed to one of each.  Then I could try for a tie-breaker, unless the 3rd kid was the same sex, too, in which case, no mas!  No mas!

What I didn't realize at that point in my life was that I didn't like children.  Even as a child, I didn't like them.  I'd have to say it's partly in response to their not liking me, either.  First, I committed the unpardonable sin of being overweight.  No need to go into details of that sort of funtime.  Second, no wonder what I did to entertain myself, it was "lame," or "for babies."  Like playing with toys, for instance.  I played with toys when everyone else around me had gotten the memo that we were supposed to be playing sports now.  I read comic books, watched cartoons and still played with toys when everyone else got the phone call that we were supposed to be dating each other.

Have I stopped reading comics, watching cartoons or playing with toys by now?  Hell, no.  But now that I'm an adult, this is seen as "playful" and "childlike" and "candidate for being a contestant, or better yet, a Geek, on Beat the Geeks."

A typical job for teenagers is babysitting.  Well, teenaged girls, mostly.  Maybe boys are doing that more often now; I wouldn't know.  My oldest friend practically paid for her first year in college by babysitting throughout high school.  Possibly junior high, too.  She had so many clients, she started foisting off desperate parents to her other friends, which explains why I got a call one night from a parent who'd "heard that (I) babysit."  Um....

Needless to say, I never babysat any kids, ever.  Now that my sisters and I are all adults, and my local sister has a toddler, I STILL DON'T BABYSIT.  An aunt NOT babysitting?  AN AUNT??  Sacrilege!  Blasphemy!!  Local Sis has confessed to a certain amount of disappointment that I don't babysit, but I've never been anything but honest with her about that, so if she thought my heart was going to melt at the sight of her precious bundle of Heaven, she gets to live with disappointment.  And somebody else sitting for her.

In my favor, I'm incapable of bearing kids.  Well-meaning, but fucking ignorant, people then tend to blurt out that I could adopt.  I recognize that it's because most people assume that parenting is actually a desirable way to spend one's time.  Of course I could adopt.  But that would mean I want a kid, and God help any child subjected to the likes of me as a mother.

When I was still considering the possiblility of finding a mate, my mother often lectured me that, at my age, it becomes increasingly difficult to find men who have a) not been married already (fair enough), and by far worst of all, b) not spawned.  Of course, the older I get, the older the kids get, too, so it's all good, 'cuz they're like, grown now and stuff.  Yes.  And then, being more normal than I am - of THAT I am quite certain - they'll spawn, too.  So if I'm Grandma all of a sudden, I'm expected to dote on the Grandkids, 'cuz like, that's what Grandparents do.

So I'll pass on that, too.

Annoyingly enough, I've gotten it a lot from well-meaning (but, say it with me now! fucking ignorant) folks who insist I'd make a great mom someday.  I think this is because they only see at a superficial level my great love and appreciation of most things childlike.  You know, the toys, cartoons, comic books, Legos, model kits, and mindless, escapist movies like Blade 2 and The Scorpion King mentioned above.  Well, the toys, cartoons, and comics, anyway.  I'd rather have two fillings with no Novocaine than see movies like the Ya-ya Sisterhood or anything else with Ashley Judd in it.  So surely someone like me, who has a dollhouse and covers every bit of her house with toys and model kits and other trappings of childhood, would find great joy and satisfaction in sharing these treasures with my future children.  Hell, no.  They'd break them.  And then what?  It's not like I'd trust the clumsy oaf to fix it properly or replace it.

Oh, and that's another reason I ultimately left that "No Kidding" group.  I detected a definite lack of visits to Toys R Us.  There's not wanting kids and not wanting ANYthing in your life that smacks of childhood, and I'm afraid that I need the latter.

Oh - South Park is on.  Gotta go!