Monday Miscellany: No Kidding Version

Well, after finally posting about Otherhood last week, what happened this week but my copy of the book arrived. Yay! I have yet to read all the essays. (I have one or two time-urgent tasks to complete before I can delve into it. Though I'll need to do that before the launch next week!) Trying to decide whether I publicise this on my non-No Kidding social media accounts. I think I will, but it's always a risk. 

Today is the first day of the second term of school for this academic year in New Zealand. That meant the cafes and open spaces and beaches were all free of school age kids, and those of us who don't have them could relish the ease of getting tables, and the lower noise volumes and serenity of kid-free spaces. It helped that today is a gorgeous, if cool, autumn day. A lovely day to be out and enjoying the views of our lovely city. 

A second thought. It's not that seeing kids in a cafe or beach or walking track or at the supermarket bothers me. These days I don't feel pangs when I see them. It's just that they are naturally more boisterous, get in the way more often, take up more room. That's fine when they're kids I know and love and want to spend time with. But otherwise, life is easier for me when they're at school. I'm sure empty nesters and adults who haven't yet had children feel the same. At the beachside cafe, there were tables of older women chatting and enjoying themselves. Maybe they'd spent the last two weeks babysitting their grandkids, or like me, just appreciated the quiet, beautiful day. My pleasure in child-free spaces may well be shared by many of those who have children and grand-children too. We are not alone in this.

I read an almost-heated discussion between No Kidding women on a Fbk group this morning. One said that however difficult having children was, it didn't compare to the isolation and sadness of being childless not by choice, especially when ageing. Another person said that many people with children don't have the company or support of their kids when they are ageing. And that if we expect to be sad and alone, whether we have children or not, we are more likely to feel like that. I didn't engage. I feel as if the truth for me might be somewhere in the middle, leaning towards the more positive end of the spectrum. I make a point of enjoying the benefits of not having children (see above), because otherwise I'm just making myself miserable. But I'm not blind to the difficulties that may face me. I feel compassion for those who dwell on their situation, wishing it could be different, not realising that we can in fact learn to control some of what we think and feel. I think that's one of the biggest gifts of going through loss and childlessness. It doesn't mean I find it easy. But knowing I don't have to be filled with regret, but can embrace and enjoy my life, can bring a lot of comfort.