Kid Talk: The Alternative to Nyquil

Lately my patience is being tried by parents who talk too much about their kids. I don’t know what it is—a few months ago IP and I were advertising our babysitting services on this blog, but when it comes to some acquaintances’ kid talk, I really am getting very annoyed. Maybe it’s because my inbox is constantly flooded with pictures and videos I don’t want to see, article write-ups about the kids’ teams I don’t want to read, entreaties to buy yet another stale cake I don’t want to purchase, and rants from parents about their ineffective school boards I don’t want to hear. Whenever anyone starts in on this at work, I just want to stomp my foot and yell, “Enough! I don’t care about your kids! Please be quiet, please at least ask me how my weekend was before launching into how many birthday parties you took Junior to, and please don’t tell me that I’ll do this when I have kids myself. I think I’ll make a Herculean effort not to. Because you? Are boring the living daylights out of me on an everyday basis. I will try not to do the same to some poor, unwitting soul in the future. Get a blog.”

Look, I get it: Parenting is a huge responsibility (it’s one that I’m not sure I’m cut out for), and I give kudos to people who throw themselves into caring for their children (note: I can’t give kudos to just any parent because most people can have sex and procreate, but not all of us are good parents). I understand that people talk about what’s on their minds; I totally understand that parents are constantly thinking about their kids. But is it really too much to ask for people to diversify their conversation with books they’ve just read, news they’ve been following and other sundry matters? I’m serious when I say get a blog. The reason why I have a blog is partly to write, partly to blab; not everyone wants to hear about the minute details of my existence, but if you choose to read it, thanks. If not, that’s okay since I blog for me. I really wish my acquaintances would do the same with their kid talk: become mommy and daddy bloggers.

I know this may ruffle some parental feathers (after all, you’re probably just proud of your kids, which is cool), but understand: the stuff that I hear are trivialities: how Hannah Montana tickets were acquired, the various outfits that were purchased for a one-year-old, how a seven-year-old threw a tantrum at a team practice, how the kids are learning how to swim. All of these stories have me falling asleep at my desk, head lolling forward as I try to listen. I think I could stand it if it happened once or twice a week. But every single goddamn day? For more than three years now? Any topic gets boring when you discuss it every single goddamn day, especially for the past three years.

I’ve longed feared becoming boring, and my current observation is that some of the parents I know can be very, very boring. Please mix it up, people. We child-free people aren’t necessarily pining for chubby-cheeked kids of our own, nor are we jealous of the stories you regale us with constantly. You are not burrowing an idea into my mind, that of desired and impending parenthood; this actually makes me averse to wanting to have a kid because I don’t want to risk becoming just like you. Which is what’s said to me: “One day you’ll be just like us.” Hell to the no. Even if I have a kid, I make this solemn promise to myself: while my life may be consumed with little Princess’s hockey games and Dom’s improvised chemistry sets, you will not hear me talking about it at work all that much. I will seize the opportunity to talk to adults about other matters. Detailed discussions of cartoons that my kids like can be a conversation that I will actually hold with my kids, not my colleagues and friends and acquaintances, especially not my poor, bored child-free colleagues and friends and acquaintances whose eyes are rolling to the ceiling during lunch.

In the meantime, I think I need to invest in some glasses like these, except I need them in brown: