- How do you afford them?
Really? I saw how much nappies cost once (While getting lost looking for deodorant) and they cost a tonne! Don’t babies go to the toilet, like, all the time? Who can afford eight hundred nappies a week?
- Did you wake up one morning and decide, ‘Time to create a human?’
Not including accidental pregnancies – for now – how do you decide to have a baby? This is a serious question that we want to know. Did you always want to be a parent? Did you want to get back at your parents? Could you not be arsed sitting exams and thought, “Raising a kid is just as valuable as being a doctor. I’d still be contributing”? This seems flippant, but it’s not. It’s just a massive life decision and you seemed to get pregnant out of nowhere.
- Do you really understand how long eighteen years are?
Taking eighteen as the baseline of adult hood, do you really know how long that is? Eighteen years is probably as long as you were alive when you got pregnant – and you don’t remember half of that (childhood, not drunken black outs. Though, maybe?). I’m responsible for a car and my living room carpet (rented accommodation, urgh!) and that is tough work. I consider myself a pretty responsible guy, (pay my bills on time, don’t speed, try to stay out my overdraft) but I know I’d lose that baby on a bus in some Joey/Chandler like FRIENDS-but-not-as-funny-more-social-servicey kind of way. And I don’t even use buses. And you’ve signed yourself up for a quarter of a lifetime of care for someone when you’ve not really lived yourself. Maybe you have, what do I know?
- Seriously, how do you afford kids?
Is there a special bank in which you have to take a lactating breast or two months worth of eye bags to in order to claim money from some parenting bank that gets donations from I don’t even know who? Because babies eat. A lot. You know this, of course, but my god do they eat. My god do I eat and I only have exams to stress about. That’s your mouth and their mouth to feed. Where does the money come from? I’m going to guess elves. Bank robbing elves. Because that’s as logical an answer as I can come up with.
- Did the condom split?
Caaammaaaannnnn, we’re all friends here.
- Did you use a condom?
We’re not judging. Like, at all. Seriously. No shade. No, no, no, shade.
- Do you think the billion pictures you post a day look different from each other?
This is genuinely a genuine question. Because, once you’ve seen it on snap chat, twitter, facebook and tumblr – that’s just one picture – the same one being shared yet again on the same social networks becomes irritating. He has his dinner on his face – we get it.
Note: I know we can hide/delete you (we do) but I want to know the answer to why?
- HOW DO YOU AFFORD IT?
Tell me. Like, definitely tell me now because I cannot figure it out.
- Do you still have ambitions (career wise)?
Getting real here. Do you? I’m not saying it’s a bad thing (it isn’t, its amazing and more mothers should be encouraged to reach out for their dreams) but yours have got to be at least on pause? How can you raise a tiny human and have a career. Seriously, if you’re reading this and you do. R. E. S. P. E. C. T. because I’ve not even finished re-writing a book and all I have to do is masturbate and go to work. It seems that some people lose all semblance of who they were before and just become “mum” and nothing else.
- Where do you meet all these other angry mums?
In all honesty, once someone has a baby – and when the million pictures of their day to day lives begin to appear – you seem to have a legion of other mums who all support you and your, now empty, womb – to the death. Is there a secret facebook group you join because, seriously, the Raging Mummy Alliance (as I call it) cannot take a joke. In fact, I fully expect death threats and dirty nappies squished through my letterbox any day now from them for writing this post. They are all so angry and have far too much Facebook time if you ask me (which you didn’t). As soon as I comment a “oh here’s another one” under my friend’s tenth picture of her child sneezing, you all come out in force. “Oh hell no! How dare he disrespect your RIGHT as a mother to celebrate your child!” “Oh Lordy-Lord, who is this heathen-without-child that dares to sully the name of us – MOTHERS – and our love of our child!” “FUCK U U WNKER. U DNT HVE DIZ LYFFE. U DNT UNDRSTND SAOFJHFUDFHJJDJAKHLCJKADIOJLIDUNILUSDILANUDFNIUAD” I’m exaggerating here – but only slightly. I’m glad you have a support network but sheeessshhh. Talk about losing your personality completely.
This was all just a joke on my part and a way to open a dialogue on the perspectives of both us in our early twenties who don’t have kids and those who do. There is genuinely nothing but love here and this is just a satire on the take-it-to-the-extreme “young” parents out there who think they are the first to have ever had a kid before they turned twenty five.