5 Things I Won’t Do When I Have Kids


I have no intention of getting pregnant yet. I’m doing everything in my power to prevent it, because quite frankly, I don’t see the appeal in sacrificing the simple pleasures of life while I squeeze a watermelon-sized human through a credit card slot. I’m sure that parenthood is absolutely rewarding, and I have the utmost respect for the people who are doing it. Maybe 10 years down the road when I’m Googling “how to raise a kid without fucking it up” and crying over the pickles and ice cream that gave me stretch marks, I’ll to look back at this article as a reference for things that I definitely will not do.

1. Make a Facebook for my child. It’s actually quite the paradox. My parents used to punish me by taking away my computer privileges. I’ll never forget the day they found my Myspace–yikes. And now, along with the pearl necklaces and family chinaware that these kids will inherit, they’ll also get a fucking social media account fully loaded with videos dating back to their birthday. Like, their actual day of birth! You know how on the timeline it says, “so and so was born on X” and then your wall posts and tagged high school pictures load? Well, these kids will have a picture and then tagged places. It’s so dangerous–these babies’ future girlfriends will stalk them back to the day they took their first poop in a toilet. No thanks, my kids are getting privacy.

2. Micromanage what they eat. There are two types of kids in this world: the ones who get peanut butter and jelly for lunch and the ones who get kale and granola. Between the nut allergy epidemic and the CrossFit phenomenon, parents are so particular about what goes into their kids’ faces. Some parents are all like, “No gluten, no sugar, no wheat, no dairy, grass-fed only, and never EVER any ice cream sandwiches.” What kind of shit is that? Our generation grew up on Capri Sun and Lunchables and look at us now! We’re not diabetics. We’re not growing an eleventh finger. I see the way that the kids with the Trader Joe’s “oreos” look at their friends’ Girl Scout Cookies. Monitoring what my children will eat is evil. I will let them have their fair share of Bagel Bites for breakfast and every now and then, they can have ice cream–make no mistake, not fro-yo–for dinner.

3. Wear stretchy pants or Crocs. when I was in first grade, my boyfriend’s mom–yes, I had a boyfriend because I was G–always looked so hot. She wore boot-cut jeans and high heels and lipstick. All the boys got baby boy boners and all the girls were like, dang I wish my mom looked like that. Well, I’m going to be that mom. I’m going to be a cool mom, dammit.

4. Get mad when they’re dirty. You know what makes me mad? Seeing a 5-year-old navigate an iPad better than tricycle. I’d rather my children ruin a brand new pair of baby Uggs (which were a stupid invention in the first place) than be driven into a Disney-induced coma. I hope my kids look under rocks for bugs and jump in puddles and chase birds. Nothing sucks more than a lame baby.

5. Have more kids.

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