Monday Miscellany: No Kidding version

I have little to say today. The Husband and I celebrated a wedding anniversary a week or so ago. I mentioned it on A Separate Life in Another Year. As we hear of relationship or health issues that friends or family are going through, we appreciate each year we are lucky enough to have. Even when we drive each other crazy! It's odd - when I think of the decades we've been together (we met at university), I don't think about being childless. I think of all we've been through, and all we enjoy now. Because focusing on now, on what we have now, is so much more important than thinking about what we do not have.

Looking at the world right now, it would be easy to say that I'm glad I don't have children. There's so much horror, and insanity. It's going to come to our shores. It's scary. It would be tempting to wash my hands of it all, because I don't have descendants. But I can't do that. I care about all children, not just my own. I care about the world they're going to inherit, about the attitudes that they might be subject to, about the discrimination against girls and women that seems set to continue and even grow, thanks to social media. I may not have children, and I may feel isolated at time, but I have not dissociated from our communities, country, or world. 

And a couple of happy notes. I'm editing my trip photos at the moment. I like to take simple scenes, or close ups of flowers, and compose them specifically to be used here on this blog. You see, you're with me whether I'm sitting at my desk and laptop (as I am today), or standing on the southern coast of Ireland snapping a beach with sparkling water that will be perfect for a future No Kidding post.

And finally, No Kidding freedom is always good! We spent New Zealand's national day (Waitangi Day) in a beautiful olive grove on a warm, sunny day having lunch and catching up with friends. Their kids are grown and have children themselves. They are a loving family, but children are no longer part of their daily lives. Which means they have time for us. And of course, we have time for them. It was lovely.

Monday Miscellaneous: No Kidding - Otherhood, and On the Road

The last week has been interesting in a No Kidding sense. We travelled on Mother's Day, and so had booked a restaurant for dinner for Sunday evening. Although there were lots of family groups, some of them multi-generational, there was nothing triggering there. We relaxed, relieved after hours on the road, and enjoyed good food and service. No obsequious Mother's Day wishes to fob off. We were treated as just another customer, and I loved that. Without watching programmed TV or listening to programmed radio, it is all so much easier to avoid these days. Except of course the next day, when the North Americans were celebrating and I always forget and always have to get off social media!

Travelling in autumn, when the international tourists are off in warmer climes, the cruise ships have stopped calling, and the kids are all in school and university, is the best time! I loved the the chill in the air (even if it did feel as if I was cold for a week!), and more relaxed travel schedule. I mentioned to someone that that "sensible No Kidding folks" don't travel in summer when everyone else is on the road or in the vineyards, and then had to qualify it to ensure that I wasn't saying that the non-No Kidding are not sensible. Then I had to qualify that too to say that not all No Kidding folks can choose to be sensible and travel off-season (the lovely teachers, for example), and by that time my point was lost! Of course, those whose children are now living away from home can travel at this time too. That's part of what I love about it. We're not obviously the "couple without kids" when we are on holiday in May. We're a little older, which means we blend in more!

Of course I mentioned Otherhood to a few people we spent time with. I suggested they buy the book for a relative, who in recent years in their late 30s had tried to get pregnant. We had an interesting discussion, as I don't know their relative personally. "They don't talk about it," said my acquaintance. And so the two of us talked about the various reasons why they might not talk about it. Perhaps they're actually okay, perhaps they're worried about judgement, perhaps they're scared to be vulnerable and open when they're dealing with it all, perhaps they feel isolated and wish people would ask, perhaps they would just appreciate having their reality acknowledged, without pity or condescension. My acquaintance acknowledged - perhaps after reading my essay and the introduction to the book* - how isolating it must be, in the same way that assuming everyone is hetero/cis or of a particular race is isolating and dismissive. They said it as if it was a new realisation. That's a breakthrough, thanks to the book. And I really hope they do buy it for their relative. Or that it at least prompts a discussion at some stage. If that is the case, then being in the book has already been worthwhile. Awareness matters. It makes the world a more compassionate, considerate place.

Back on the 8th May, there was a radio interview with the editors of Otherhood. I get a mention** at the very end. You can read about it and listen to the interview here.  My sister and a friend heard it, and I got excited texts from them. (My 15 seconds of fame! lol) The launch event too was lovely, and a few readings covered the diversity of those of us in the Otherhood - for example, those whose religions affected them, teachers/foster mothers who were childfree by choice, etc. But they were all emotional. I took an Otherhood friend, who hasn't been involved in communities, messageboards, blogs etc in the way I have. I think it was a revelation to her too, that her reality is worth talking about. However happy she is with her Otherhood life, society isn't really that inclusive. She was a great help to me when I was going through losses, as she didn't value people's lives on whether or not they had kids. "Life is for enjoying," was her most radical statement to me. I remember being shocked, but have come to completely agree with her. (And for anyone who wants to disagree, enjoyment comes from many sources, including involvement with children, volunteering, helping others, etc. It is not of itself selfish!)

* I'm mentioned in the intro. It's thrilling, even if it makes me feel like the old lady of the group of contributors and editors! lol

** Not as Mali, of course. But if you read No Kidding in NZ regularly, you'll recognise my quote.

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.

Monday Miscellany: Another No Kidding Version

• I was chatting with an old friend yesterday (just to clarify, she is one I’ve known for 44 years, not an OLD friend, even though we are of course, both getting older), and mentioned I needed to write a post for this blog. She is also living a No Kidding life. She commented that for years, people would try to convince her to have children. That she needed to have kids so she would have someone to look after her in her old age. Aside from the obvious, that this is no guarantee of having care, she noted that this attitude is completely selfish. I totally agree. I’ve seen it in practice. There wasn’t always a lot of gratitude, the reliance on the children made the elderly feel very vulnerable. Whereas if plans had been made, and put into action, they would have actually had more control over their lives in their last years. Another reminder to us all.

• I’m again thinking about the carbon emissions of travel. We tend to go on longer trips, so that we have fewer long haul flights. I was thinking about Taylor Swift flying back and forth from Japan to see her boyfriend play some apparently-important game in the US. Then I thought of a family of teenagers and adults I know that is flying for four hours to Melbourne to see Taylor Swift’s concert. Then they fly home after only a day or two. It made me feel – if not wholesome, then at least much less guilty about international travel. Having children really does massively increase a person’s carbon footprint.

• So it’s getting real. I mentioned a while ago I have an essay included in an anthology that is coming out this year, called Otherhood. In fact, it’s just in a few months, in early May. Here’s a totally permitted sneak peek at the cover. I’ll give more information then, but I know they're publishing in paper and ebooks. There's an insta page - https://www.instagram.com/otherhood.book/ and I'm quoted in their first post there. It can also be found on Goodreads too, to add it to your to-read list.
  
  
• I love the blurb on the back. It encompasses us all, and emphasises the need for "a more inclusive conversation about what makes a fulfilling life."
  

 

 

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Monday Miscellany: No Kidding Version

Further to my post last week, this week I am both thriving and wilting. It's hot. Thinking about my photo from last week's post makes me want a swim. I'm generally not crazy enough to swim in cold Wellington waters. Unless the heat continues. Though I probably would have been to the beach several times if I had kids at home. Maybe I'd even have dared to dip in the water. Even thinking about it is tempting!

Not that, at my age, I would still have kids at home. It's interesting to make that adjustment mentally. For twenty years, I have thought to myself things like, "I would be doing X if I had kids," or alternatively, "I wouldn't be able to do X if I had kids." I didn't do it to torture myself - not after the first few years anyway. But it was just a way of acknowledging my life. Still, I actually have to stop doing that now. Except for one, none of my peers still have kids at home. Our lives, superficially at least, are all very similar in that regard.

We were talking about money this morning. My husband said we are living beyond our means. We dug into that, and although we are not in fact doing so in general, our travel aspirations and scarily, rampant inflation, could take us close to that realm. Although of course, as we get older, our spending will drop - except perhaps on medical expenses that are not covered, or living expenses and assistance. And I got wondering whether people with children, in similar financial circumstances to us, think about these things as much. Our relatives with children will always have them as a financial back up, just as I was for my mother (although it wasn't really necessary), and my husband and his brothers were all there for his parents (though their frugality made it unnecessary also). If my sisters and brothers-in-law ever need funds, their well-educated kids will be there for them. Do they ever consciously acknowledge that? Does it make life easier for them? Or do they just take it for granted, I wonder?

Of course, in the interests of being fair, I also have to acknowledge those whose children might be more of a financial drain on their parents in their old age. Unless one of our nieces/nephews go rogue, or have terrible luck (always possible), we shouldn't have to deal with that. But parents can't ever really wash their hands of their children either. So it's a good reminder not to look at issues from only one perspective. 

 

Monday Miscellany: No Kidding travel version

I've been away the last few weeks. (Read about it here on A Separate Life.) That means I didn't get to fully participate in World Childless Week, other than my three posts here, here and here. I intend - when I recover - going back and reading a lot of the writing and discussion around the week. Even though it has been many years now, it still means a lot to me that a community gets together and discusses our issues with openness and love and understanding.I just wish I'd had time to be involved in real time.

My trip was spent with relatives, and the children of the relatives, so it was a little bittersweet. I loved getting to know the kids better. They're all such interesting young people now, and my niece has admirable feminist tendencies, which I applaud. But she was also a reminder of what I have lost. She was presenting her thesis, thinking about her future, when I remember her as a three-month old one Christmas, the Christmas that I went through whilst my first ectopic pregnancy was resolving. The eldest son would have been just a little younger than my second ectopic pregnancy. He's at medical school across the country, but was there for a few days during our visit. The house was full of people - the two eldest both have partners, and we got to know them as well, they cooked us dinner, we took them out. It was a bustling happy home. We came home to peace and quiet, which is lovely, but it's also sometimes a bit too quiet. Not often, but the contrast is there. 

Then of course there was a comment. It was said with the nicest of intentions, and so I hope I responded in kind. It was noted that of the three brothers there, my husband was the most considerate and helpful, getting things done, organising people, etc. "You wouldn't think he would be, because he doesn't have kids," the commenter said. My response was along the lines of "why wouldn't you think he would be?" I went on, but this is paraphrased, and is perhaps stronger than what I actually said. "He's a person, he can see what needs to be done, and as you can plainly see, fathers do not have a monopoly on being helpful around the house." Sigh. There's always someone who says something.

School holidays had not begun. So flight prices were better, places weren't crowded, traffic was okay. There are benefits to no kidding travel. 

And of course, once again, recovery has been easy. Well, as easy as it can be when you're coughing and under the weather. Yes, I picked up a virus. Yes. there was an overnight flight with only about half an hour sleep (we arrived in NZ at 1 am Perth time - ouch) so I needed to recover from that as well as jet lag and illness. Yes, I'm still recovering. Yes, I don't have to drive kids to sports events or ensure they are eating while studying etc etc. Yes, that makes it easier. Though you all know I would have happily done it all.

Monday Miscellany: No Kidding Style

I listened – rather belatedly – to the Gateway Women Fireside Chat today, and it sparked a number of thoughts around the description of us as “radical,” which I’m going need to work through before I blog about it. (Watch this space). Initially though, I was pleased to hear the repeated intention to make things easier for those coming after us, to get conversations going, and to represent ourselves. That’s certainly the main reasons I still blog every week, and I know it also motivates my readers who also still blog. I don’t know how many new readers I have here, but I do know that every so often, someone emails me and asks a question or lets me know that I still reach new people. If all I’ve learned can someday help someone get through this, and look to their future with optimism not fear, then it is worth it. Blogging weekly gets harder as the number of commenters get fewer, of course. But for now, I’m still going!

I’ve noticed in some things I’ve been reading lately the use of the word natalism rather than pronatalism, with essentially the same meaning. I haven’t done a detailed search on this, or thought about the reasons yet, but initially I felt both more comfortable with the simplicity and acceptance of natalism, meaning that having children is the norm, and also offended, as if it removed all bias, which was supported by the “pro” in pronatalism, and is very evident in our societies. Hmmmm.

One of the reasons I love the Thursday Murder Club books, I’ve just realised, is that there is a group of friends who share many commonalities, and none of them are their children. Even though their children are part of their lives, they can talk about other things, those who don’t have children are not ostracised or condescended to, and whilst the children are acknowledged, they really only play peripheral parts in the book. Such a refreshing take on being elderly!

Finally, I’ve just learned that an essay I submitted will be included in an “anthology of essays by New Zealand writers that will give voice to a common experience that still feels taboo: not being a mother. Or at least, not in the traditional sense.” It should be published in early 2024, and I’ll give more details then. I’m pleased our voices will be represented.