tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-148164432012-02-16T03:19:49.160-08:00An honest look at being married and childless by choice by Stasha, a 31-year-old designer from Chicago who's childfree and loving it!Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.comBlogger1621100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-86114926408116757322012-01-16T20:32:00.000-08:002012-01-16T21:13:28.499-08:00

Another one down. My friend is in her late 30s, a few years older than me, and I'm ecstatic that she was able to get pregnant when she was so afraid she couldn't. But it's another one down, the second of three who were trying to announce her pregnancy. The third has gone silent about babies in her social media, which is leading me to believe she may be close to an announcement herself. The point

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-71467263215017689052012-01-08T20:07:00.000-08:002012-01-16T21:18:35.935-08:00

I am in love. I'm in love with a baby girl who doesn't want to sleep when it's time to sleep and won't eat anything but applesauce. It's my friend's daughter, the formerly colicky one who's calmed down a bit, and I'm still in love with her. She makes me wish I wanted kids. The mood swings are back. I want to want the whole package, I do. But I still just don't. For the thousand reasons I've said

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-42226300271719029022011-09-07T13:20:00.000-07:002011-09-07T13:58:34.043-07:00

The shine has worn off of the jealousy I felt about my friend's new baby when she first came into the world. At first I viewed her experience through the rose-colored glasses that accompany new motherhood, but seeing the reality of her new world has convinced me more than ever that I don't want what she has. But it's not just her. There's the friends with toddlers who haven't gone to the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-83706172578294608802011-08-20T21:23:00.000-07:002011-08-28T21:32:23.667-07:00

Apparently this is a thing among (many?) women who dream all their lives of being mothers. They have a list of names all picked out for their future children. I know if my childhood best friend ends up with a fourth (FOURTH!) girl, the plan is to name her after me. Friends have names picked out long before they even get pregnant and, even though it often changes, they daydream about the named

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-69661857481712154762011-07-18T20:25:00.000-07:002011-07-18T21:13:39.831-07:00

Since I crossed back into feeling better about my choice, I've been worried that meeting Newbaby would drop me right back into the midst of the rabies. Thankfully, when I visited my friends and their daughter this weekend, it couldn't have been better. I think this was the first baby I've ever held without anyone uttering the words "don't you want one, even just a little?" and the first time the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-19904697904910566782011-07-09T22:54:00.000-07:002011-07-09T23:02:13.763-07:00

Spending the evening at a friend's party that was not closed to kids is the best birth control ever. In one night there was a baby whose parents had to leave early because of his fussing, a curious but well-behaved one-year-old who couldn't stop touching EVERYTHING and opening every drawer, making a huge mess and nearly breaking many things, and a hyperactive three-year-old who acted like she'd

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-18878414325623864162011-07-07T20:36:00.000-07:002011-07-07T20:57:57.186-07:00

I love my husband, and one of the reasons is that I can talk to him when I need to (even if sometimes I don't realize it). And tonight, boy did I need to. Tonight I had the most acute case of the rabies that I've ever experienced. It was so bad that I was really questioning myself, asking myself what my motivations were for not wanting children, whether it was something I really wanted or

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-1195860673703614182011-07-07T15:05:00.000-07:002011-07-07T15:42:00.732-07:00

This is not actually a cynical post. I just laid eyes on a photo of my dearest friend's freshly baked daughter and I'm sort of overwhelmed by the magic of it all. I'm always reminded of the Onion article, "Miracle of Birth Occurs for 83 Billionth Time", but with this couple, this baby, it feels a little more special. Maybe it's because her mother didn't treat me like a freak when I was interested

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-14283003516960338822011-07-01T18:03:00.000-07:002011-07-01T18:30:42.921-07:00

Is there a more condescending statement out there? This hits a nerve because it was a sticking point in my relationship with friends I've since lost, but I'm going to indulge the Anonymous poster who insists I think about my childfreedom too much. Is it self-indulgent to blog about the times I feel conflict? Sure, I suppose, but this is the stuff that, when I started this blog 6 years ago I wish

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-34165574806067113042011-06-29T21:30:00.000-07:002011-06-29T22:03:07.929-07:00

Is it possible to be jealous of something you don't really want? Because that's the emotion that I'm dealing with as I wait with bated breath for one of my best friends to go into labor with her first little girl. Most days its easy to be childfree. Today's not one of those days. The twinges and the baby rabies have calmed considerably in the last few weeks to being pretty much gone, but tonight

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-14231782613875975762011-03-30T23:35:00.001-07:002011-04-06T13:51:04.894-07:00

It's something I see a lot in the childfree world, and it bothers me a lot. We scream and cry and say "don't judge me", "don't assume X about me", but then in the same breath someone will say something nice about parenthood and immediately the shackles get raised, or they'll say "I was childfree until I changed my mind" and the twitching starts. Many childfree people find solace in the stories of

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-88582303812551963882011-03-24T00:04:00.000-07:002011-03-24T12:59:49.109-07:00

Nearly all of my childless friends are now either actively trying to conceive or actually pregnant. It's getting lonely on this side of the fence and I'm having a hard time deciding how I feel about that. I knew it would only be a matter of time before this happened, and it's just happening later for me than for most. We're all in our 30s, with a couple friends finally decided to try for kids

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-68293792922108636492011-03-11T10:38:00.000-08:002011-03-11T15:58:29.211-08:00

Someone wanted to hear more about the conflict that having a body that wants a baby and a rational mind that knows I don't. The feelings I get are very internal. I'm not the only person I know who's described it as a twinge, but it's like a little twisting or spasm in my uterus or my heart when I see a newborn, or a child doing something cute, and it's entirely bizarre. I'll feel it when I'm

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-24775110059889239092010-12-29T21:58:00.000-08:002010-12-29T22:37:49.439-08:00

I've kind of talked about this before, but for some reason it's been on my mind a great deal lately. If I were to reconsider my choice to not have children, there's one thing that I could not ignore. I am absolutely unwilling to deal with a child who is not perfect. Perfectly healthy, perfectly behaved; I even have unreasonable expectations for attractiveness (though my range of "attractive" is

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-21454158394216808012010-12-19T18:05:00.001-08:002010-12-19T18:33:14.040-08:00

The prospect of updating this blog has become very loaded, but I'm at a point lately where I really need to vent about this and I'm needing an outlet desperately. I've got the baby rabies. Oh, it's not so bad. I know it's my biological clock and I have no desire to have a child because my mind knows what's involved, but I'm at a point right now where I'm actively fighting against my biological

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-17476550433375323262010-07-01T17:54:00.000-07:002010-07-01T18:00:00.373-07:00

Yes I am still childfree. Yes we are still dealing with many of the issues that brought me to blog in the first place, but life gets in the way. I still get emails and messages hoping I'll update now and again, so here I am. I'm going to try to blog weekly, but we'll see how that goes. There's certainly plenty for me to sound off about.

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-29091608764711695292008-11-21T14:40:00.000-08:002008-11-21T14:41:13.254-08:00

As if Thanksgiving with my husband’s family wasn’t stressful enough, headlined by my husband’s judgemental stepsister, stepmom and stepmom’s twin sister, but babies are going to be front and center; both of my husband’s stepbrothers’ wives are currently pregnant. I got to hear all about it at dinner last week, about how pleased they are that one couple who had a traumatic pregnancy with their

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-46323530342205718622008-11-11T09:02:00.000-08:002008-11-18T09:04:44.313-08:00

While at dinner with my husband and my in-laws the other night, my father-in-law dropped a bomb on my husband. While my stepmother-in-law and I were at the buffet refilling our soup bowls, FiL blurted out to my husband that “oh, by the way, you have a half-sister. But don’t tell ‘the women’, we’ll talk later.” We then returned to the table to hear the last part of that statement and were none the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-62991262729281622912008-11-04T08:19:00.000-08:002008-11-18T08:22:20.375-08:00

We spend about one weekend a month with our friends who live downstate, and while the country life is so not for us we love the change of pace once in awhile. It’s quiet there, mellow, and visits to their house are often filled with great cooking and fun crafts. This time, however, I kind of wish we hadn’t come. Our mutual friend and his wife decided to drop by with their three rambunctious kids

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-91728927691221296482008-10-23T11:51:00.000-07:002008-10-23T11:56:25.889-07:00

A friend of mine brought up an interesting conversation in her own blog: Should a man be able to opt out of parenthood in a situation where he made it clear that he did not want to be a father, took reasonable steps to avoid doing so, but a child is conceived. This is an issue close to my heart because my niece is one of those babies. Sure, perhaps a little more accountability should rest on my

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-62462599775910706312008-10-21T21:14:00.000-07:002008-10-21T21:36:00.497-07:00

Another childhood friend joined the ranks of the childed last week. He's a gorgeous little boy, even when not considered by newborn baby standards, and she's thrilled. But for the first time, I don't really feel a wall has been erected by his birth. It's odd to me that it would be she, the OB nurse, the one whose life revolves most completely around babies and mommies, that would be the most

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-20944179778064939402008-10-19T16:01:00.000-07:002008-10-19T21:03:18.034-07:00

My niece has been looking forward to this weekend for months. She made a countdown calendar for a craft project, counting down each day and excitedly sending me e-mails about what we'd do, where we'd go, what her uncle would put in his "famous pancakes" for her (butterscotch chips with whipped topping and syrup). So going into it, naturally, I was kind of freaked out. This was a lot to live up to

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-20410037595669858892008-10-17T12:59:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:15:41.126-07:00

I'm touched that it seems my readers still drop by and I'm missed, and I've wanted to get back into blogging about being childfree, but time and other commitments have gotten in the way. Life is good, and life is still childfree. It’s been the good kind of distraction that’s kept me from this blog, but I think about writing often. It’s time to get back on track, because there IS a lot to write

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-77402909070174308312008-04-29T10:22:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:16:12.911-07:00

I feel like I'm going through a transitional period in my life. Friends I thought I'd have forever are fading into the mist, I'm entering a new phase of my marriage as we look toward becoming homeowners, my parents are, unfortunately, entering a new phase as well due to layoffs, a slowed economy and the mortgage crisis. Times they are a-changing, and I often feel quite lost. It's during these

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-16926759318163754262008-04-11T10:32:00.000-07:002008-04-11T10:36:56.169-07:00

I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and hope that it was a rhetorical question. She’s long been befuddled by me not wanting a baby, but as she bounced her six-month-old daughter in her arms as I paged through her admittedly adorable baby book, she mused about already wanting another, and another, and another. She pointed at a particularly cute photo and said, “Seriously, how could you

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-12371959063641121472008-04-03T11:24:00.001-07:002011-04-06T15:04:51.341-07:00

It happened again; or, rather, it happened for the first time at this office. My coworker with whom I share an office brought her 8-month-old child in for the first time. And nothin’. As people crowded my space to see the baby, beg to hold the baby (who clearly didn’t want to be held by anyone other than Mommy), talk to the baby in babytalk and just stare, I quickly went back to work. Wrong

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-24977692803553819462008-04-01T11:11:00.000-07:002008-04-03T11:13:24.905-07:00

The hubby and I both love museums. We love exploring science museums, analyzing art and ogling oddities of all sorts. When we decide to take weekender trips, usually it’s to see some exciting new museum on at least one of our days. Our recent trip to Cleveland took us to the Great Lakes Science Center and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Science museums are a blast for us. We’re both passionate

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-9080872323545016472008-03-26T10:25:00.000-07:002008-03-26T10:30:45.779-07:00

It’s been two and a half years since I started this blog, and sometimes I’m fascinated how central the issue of childfreeness remains in my life, how the experience evolves over time as more of my close friends get pregnant and have babies, with each year that I make family members wait for their grandchildren they continue to hope will come.And while I feel like sometimes I beat a dead horse

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-63796310095265125352008-03-25T09:52:00.000-07:002008-03-26T09:56:25.640-07:00

So I have this recurring dream that I have a baby. The fact that I have a baby always comes as a surprise, like “oh crap, I forgot about the baby”, kind of in the same way I notice the cat’s litterbox is a mess or I haven’t fed my fish in a week (oops). I’ll pull the baby out of the closet, or the guest room, where it has been stashed away with other clutter, and then I wonder what to do with it.

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-2953243072972236512008-03-18T10:28:00.000-07:002008-03-18T10:55:12.415-07:00

24 hours is just not enough. I'm not sure where the time goes. It was on my mind for a couple reasons, especially last night as I ran out of time to work on my portfolio samples to send for a job I want. Another thing brought it to mind today, and I figured I'd come on this blog and calculate it. Wake up: 6:45Snuggle time & out of bed by: 7:15Shower & Get Ready, make lunches and breakfast, out

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-90920019286014653542008-03-17T20:44:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:54:50.077-07:00

My father lost his job 6 months ago, and in an attempt to keep their house long enough to sell it they've moved in with my maternal grandmother to free them up to get rid of the clutter accumulated over 25 years of living in the house. In addition to garbage bags full of expired medication, hotel soaps and shampoos and other little crap saved "just in case", I've also helped my mom purge bags and

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-55432226882635480512008-03-10T10:12:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:16:55.516-07:00

One reason people think I would be a great mother is that I’m kind of a rescuer. My husband and I have taken in several friends over the years who were down on their luck and have helped them get back onto their feet. I’m also borderline obsessed with making sure my niece doesn’t end up as broken as some of them. Just last night we took in another one. She’s my husband’s “cousin” (actually his

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-40601233111304847162008-03-07T14:07:00.000-08:002008-03-07T14:11:18.410-08:00

Do I really need to be afraid to admit that I find my childhood best friend’s baby super adorable? Must I feel like I’m breaking some sort of code when I want to squish her enormous cheeks (she gets them from Mommy) or rub her soft little head, when I want to love her completely? People seem to have a hard time parsing the fact that I adore the babies and kids that I care about (as opposed to the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-19687321571224164172008-03-03T15:01:00.001-08:002008-03-03T15:28:21.363-08:00

We're often told that we focus too much on the negatives of parenting, that we never stop to think about the positives. And, of course, we're conversely not allowed to suggest that parents consider the negatives. Naturally, many parents can't even fathom the negatives because the positives are so overwhelming. But what if it's the negatives that are overwhelming? Let's try a little exercise: Pro:

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-8485040646262136562008-02-27T14:46:00.000-08:002008-02-27T15:18:08.944-08:00

Originally posted in 2006, I felt this one was worth bringing back. I've added a few more that have come up over the years as well. ------A Mom friend recently posted a list in her journal about non-parent etiquette toward other people's kids after an unfortunate confrontation with her mother and little brother who recently moved down the street from them after living hours away, causing all

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-78710135279512300722008-02-22T14:18:00.000-08:002008-02-27T14:30:30.023-08:00

I take terrible care of my animals. There, I said it. Oh, it's not that bad. They're not ill, unclean, or unhappy. Maybe I don't clean the cat's box as often as I should. Maybe I procrastinate on cleaning the fishtank because, well, he's a betta and bettas don't care anyway. Maybe I forget to change the cat's water or decide that it's clean "enough", or I neglect to cut the cat's claws because

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-34021811908676529212008-02-17T14:36:00.000-08:002008-02-27T14:40:32.744-08:00

After much discussion, my husband and I decided against offering a up a room in our hypothetical house to our friends. While the extra money is extremely appealing, the extra stress is not. We grew out of having a roommate a long time ago, and anything other than a short-term arrangement is just not reasonable. We're not having kids because we love our privacy, our intimacy, our marriage. Adding

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-11146130451851971432008-02-13T10:59:00.000-08:002008-02-15T11:17:19.714-08:00

In the midst of my employment uncertainty, my husband and I are looking to buy a home. The market just outside Chicago proper, where we live, has taken a nosedive and we want to get in while the prices are low. The affordability of these homes is still a little questionable while my husband is a full-time student, so we've considered taking a roommate. The roommate would probably be one of two

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-69532005947455870432008-02-01T10:53:00.000-08:002008-02-01T13:55:25.074-08:00

It's interesting to hear people in different phases of their lives talk about how the layoffs at my company are affecting them. We're in the sort of unique situation of knowing our fate months in advance, so the place is abuzz with networking, sharing of strategies, wishing of luck. It's a fascinating dynamic.My situation is this: My husband is in college as a full-time student, due to graduate

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-16352241760543362052008-01-29T11:09:00.000-08:002008-01-29T11:17:15.298-08:00

A point parents like to point out is that the childfree will presumably have no one to take care of them when they’re older. My husband and I are taking precautions for this, starting our retirement savings early, and we plan to get long-term care insurance and whatnot, but it’s been frighteningly prevalent in the lives of my friends in the last couple weeks, as well as my own.My father lost his

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-70687087794893817162008-01-18T18:58:00.000-08:002008-01-25T08:00:45.144-08:00

I kind of had an inkling something was up on Monday evening when I got the e-mail to convene for breakfast at the Sears Tower, just a couple blocks from my office, for a mandatory meeting. It also concerned me that we weren’t all invited. And while expected them plying us with sweets was the precursor to bad news, I didn’t expect them to tell all 175 of us that we were being laid off. It wasn’t

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-85416322828757328482008-01-14T13:26:00.000-08:002008-01-14T13:27:49.232-08:00

I could write quite a sizable list of the weirdness of on of one particular family that stayed at the retreat we stayed at in Ek Balam, Mexico. They seemed to forget they weren’t in their own backyard, letting their toddler (she looked about 3 or 4) run around the place naked. This made both my husband and me extremely uncomfortable and we were one instance away from a confrontation before they

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-12446859460415374102008-01-11T08:45:00.000-08:002008-01-11T08:49:00.694-08:00

It seemed to me, as my husband and I wandered around Disneyland Chichen Itza on our recent trip to the Yucatan, among the families with kids more interested in taking photographs of themselves making silly faces than actually caring about where the were, what happened there, that they were standing among structures built thousands of years ago, some of the most ancient and certainly the most

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-37441712504505935092007-12-19T14:06:00.000-08:002007-12-20T14:19:39.241-08:00

One of my closest friends claims to be childfree. Her boyfriend of three years fathered a child as a teenager and had a terrible experience – as I understand it, the parents of the girl refused to let him be a part of the child’s life, and now he’s got a 10-year-old who doesn’t know him. The family ignores his existence, though he notifies them every time he moves in case they or the child wants

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-62531115421435739922007-12-05T13:21:00.000-08:002007-12-10T10:36:09.798-08:00

I am really proud of my best friend. She spent years being paranoid about what others thought of her, of whether her actions befit a “good mom”, and no amount of “hip mama” talk could break her out of it. A good mom doesn’t go to clubs and dance and stay out ‘til 2am even though the kids are safe and sound at grandma’s house. A good mom doesn’t have a funky haircut or *gasp* hot pink streaks in

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-87666898320764670322007-11-29T12:25:00.001-08:002007-11-29T12:26:28.100-08:00

A common theme among the comments about my friends’ newborn son and daughter, respectively, is how much the photo and stories of the baby make these women want one of their own. There was once a time where I wished I felt that way, but being comfortable in the fact that I simply do not is a huge development, and I’ve got to say I’m pretty proud of me. As I’ve watched the most recent of my friends

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-75082744446263473382007-11-25T20:30:00.000-08:002007-11-25T20:43:18.041-08:00

My post regarding my friends' choice to co-sleep with their infant and my complete lack of understanding toward it really seemed to touch a nerve with people——much moreso than any other post of mine, and I find that surprising. People commented that the post was judgmental, and to that I say "that was the point". I'm not saying they're making the wrong decision, I'm just expressing confusion and

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-52162181412343064292007-11-20T08:00:00.000-08:002007-11-20T08:10:37.637-08:00

My friend and her husband are having a baby. They were supposed to have a baby last Sunday (the 11th) , but she just doesn’t seem to want to be born so they’re inducing on Thanksgiving. In her years of dealing with infertility, my friend has idealized the idea of being a mother, having a child, and I fear she’s in for a rude awakening. From her comments at the baby shower “they can’t possibly

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-5844414752694659322007-11-18T11:46:00.000-08:002007-11-20T10:49:24.612-08:00

As a childfree woman in my childbearing prime (eew...I hate the word "childbearing"), the question often arises about whether I hate children. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching on this topic, and the best response I can come up with is “hate is a very strong word”, and I’ll attempt to explain why. There are some children I adore. And there are many, many times that I want to take these children,

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-41448874822733271392007-11-15T11:07:00.000-08:002007-11-15T11:08:18.879-08:00

"My couch smells like shit," my best friend said to me today. "The kids probably spilled milk on it and didn't tell me." Of course there’s an element of selfishness to my lack of desire for kids. I think everyone should look at the decision to procreate from a selfish level to help understand the reality of what aspects of their life they will be losing if they add a kid to their life. One of my

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-41197511806506825392007-11-14T11:09:00.000-08:002007-11-15T12:03:22.739-08:00

So yesterday I became a grown-up. I got an American Express card. I know, it sounds totally ridiculous. My main motivation was so I could buy good tickets to see Wicked the musical – you need an American Express card to buy advance tickets, apparently, but it was also time to see if all the work toward repairing a couple bad years with credit in my early 20s had finally paid off. And apparently

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-55085753269048692732007-11-13T20:10:00.000-08:002007-11-13T20:28:29.909-08:00

M brought up an interesting point-to-ponder in her comment to my last post, about my friend Angie's struggle with her emotions regarding her boyfriend's kids. Would I have felt differently about my husband if he had come with a child? I honestly don't know. Angie's situation is difficult, I think, because he has always come with this baggage. She knew he was a parent long before they started

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-17876409613395710092007-11-13T08:48:00.001-08:002007-11-13T08:48:51.726-08:00

One of my closest friends has met the man of her dreams. Well, he’s got many qualities that the man of her dreams would have. They are totally and completely in love, but she’s still torn about the relationship, primarily due to his two children: a 9-year-old from his first marriage, and a 2-year-old that’s the result of a lying girlfriend who told him she was on birth control because he was such

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-40358996116359013742007-10-29T11:43:00.000-07:002007-10-29T11:44:14.099-07:00

I have a request to extend to the parents out there. DO NOT come to a party just to prove that you’re still hip and cool and normal and can hang out with all your kidless friends if you can’t be hip and cool and normal and hang out with all your kidless friends. KTHXBYE. We have a couple we know through some other friends. In another time I’d have called them friends, but that was before an

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-79353689430298794432007-10-23T08:20:00.000-07:002007-10-23T08:25:41.008-07:00

The babies are coming. One will be here in a matter of days, the other still needs another week in the oven. I’m actually kind of looking forward to the babies of two of my friends. One is getting the boy she was hoping for to add to her two girls, the other struggled for years with infertility and has had a *knock wood* very healthy pregnancy, but I'm also excited because they’re both extremely

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-34762563622917705132007-10-22T09:56:00.000-07:002007-10-22T09:57:38.975-07:00

I love pretty much everything about How I Met Your Mother, but I became hopelessly devoted to it when, on last week’s episode, they did something I’ve NEVER seen a TV show do, as far as I can recall: They kept Robin single (presumably) and childfree. After seeing so many strong female characters who declared they didn’t want or have time for kids changing so completely, presumably to be “more

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-69123159243593625952007-10-10T08:16:00.000-07:002007-10-10T08:19:04.472-07:00

I hate the phrase “starting a family”. Oh, I use it too. We all do. But I hate the implication that my family — me, hubby, and kitty — is not actually a family. Ditto for my single friends and their animals. Sure, even the dictionary defines family as “parents and their children” and really doesn’t have a definition that includes my husband and myself solely (which is bizarre), but I define the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-25472031600221772592007-10-08T12:59:00.001-07:002007-10-08T12:59:59.557-07:00

There are several interesting threads that I pulled from yesterday’s baby shower. The one I found most interesting is definitely the wife of a friend of mine (let’s call her S to avoid confusion among all the female pronouns), one of the three childless women (our of over 20) at the shower. S and I have never really talked, though we go camping with her and her husband, but we truly found a

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-53264870281044555972007-10-05T15:24:00.001-07:002007-10-05T15:25:04.816-07:00

I’m just going to say it, because it’s been on my mind and it’s making me crazy. I don’t believe in infertility treatments. I also don’t know where to draw the line, but to me it is the ultimate in selfishness to spend a gazillion dollars to have a child that’s biologically “yours” when there are so many children out there who need homes. That said, I also believe adoption is absurdly expensive

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-44692230872438350412007-10-02T12:58:00.001-07:002007-10-02T12:58:57.514-07:00

So back in January of 2006, I mentioned that my husband and I had come to the decision that when I turned 30, then we’d start looking into getting him snipped. Well, that day has come. I turned 30 last week, and I’m surer than ever of my childfree path. But we’re still not getting the vasectomy. Since the discovery of my PCOS, we figure that as long as I have my IUD it’s simply not worth

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-35147131420809276472007-07-30T10:45:00.000-07:002007-07-30T11:12:02.001-07:00

Ok, explain this to me. I love Grey's Anatomy and have spent the last several days that I've been laid up post-surgery catching up on Season Three. And holy CRAP, the women have gone nuts. As if they weren't before, but still. I suppose this contains spoilers. The thing that made me the most upset is Callie (my favorite character -- I'm glad she seems to be sticking around) approached her husband

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-60048488356511526362007-07-23T18:42:00.000-07:002007-07-23T19:11:17.024-07:00

I wandered onto my MySpace page today and looked at my Friends list to find a large number of profile photos changed. Quite literally over half my girlfriends have changed their photos to pictures of their newborns or creepy pictures of their pregnant bellies (am I the only woman who is freaked out by bellies and "bumps"--or who REALLY hates the word "bump"?). Anyway, it really threw me. I wasn't

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-15353680399041319802007-07-13T11:07:00.001-07:002007-07-13T11:08:31.142-07:00

Last night I had my girly appointment with my new doctor. I chose a young doctor intentionally, and I’m sort of getting used to having a doctor who’s my age, but I’m very impressed with her. She diagnosed me with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome when other doctors saw my weight as a cause rather than a symptom, and she’s very kind and knowledgeable. And, if I didn’t like her enough, we had this

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-71780824978806215172007-07-09T11:51:00.000-07:002007-07-09T11:54:41.990-07:00

I received an invitation in the mail for our niece’s first birthday party, and I was flabbergasted. It’s really the only word. Now, of course a first birthday is a big deal. But this wasn’t just any birthday party: They rented a hall. And not just any hall; a fancy place that doesn’t say “birthday party” so much as it says “My Super Sweet 16”. They also included hotel information in case we’d

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-57098698239286493502007-07-03T12:09:00.000-07:002007-07-03T12:10:22.925-07:00

I’ve been seeing a word battered about lately to describe childfree folk and it’s been frustrating me. SMUG: contentedly confident of one's ability, superiority, or correctness; complacent.Are we confident, outspoken? Of course. We have to be. We’re constantly put in a position where we have to be. When you put someone on the defensive, you’re asking them to talk themselves up, to prove their

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-68507405734954452772007-07-02T10:26:00.000-07:002007-07-02T11:14:24.064-07:00

This weekend I witnessed a moment of poor parenting as a direct result of childfree envy and it made me REALLY, really sad. We attended a party at the home of some friends, and our lone childed friend chose to bring his three kids – 7-year-old twins and a 9-year-old. The rest of us, many of them longtime friends of his, are pushing 30 or comfortably there. Some are childfree by choice, some

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-46875031346914152152007-06-19T10:21:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:18:48.169-07:00

When my mom told me this weekend that she couldn't believe I was turning 30 in a few short months, I read something in her eyes that said something other than "my baby's growing up". I read "when is my baby going to grow up?" Here's the thing. My brother, 28, lives at home with his 8-year-old daughter. He goes to college (finally, after a really sketchy employment history) and really will be in

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-33380982968244752222007-05-09T10:34:00.000-07:002007-05-09T10:57:29.273-07:00

It's not like anyone was shocked. We knew before he even started dating a close girlfriend of mine, Patti, in what was easily among the more awkward of relationships any of us had ever seen. She: beautiful beyond words, intelligent, funny, friendly. They made a devastatingly attractive couple. And they had fun together, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something MUST be wrong with her,

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-63559439899830577522007-04-29T20:07:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:19:01.309-07:00

Tonight's dinner was a very unique one. We met with my in-laws to celebrate my husband's grandma's 82nd birthday. The first thing I noticed was the coldness with which my mother-in-law greeted me. She didn't even rise to give me a hug, even though I'm currently walking with a cane due to a serious knee injury two weeks ago. She didn't look me in the eye; she just seemed cold. I couldn't help but

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-20069618985178559412007-04-28T17:52:00.000-07:002007-04-30T20:07:33.378-07:00

There's a reason why we never got another cat. For almost as long as my husband and I have lived together, we've mused about picking up a new furry beasr. We've visited the Humane Society, even picked one out — twice. The requirements weren't strict: likes other cats, preferable a fat cat breed (hubby wants a big fat lap cat), poops in the box, and is declawed. It hasn't been hard to find a cat

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-76428943324283228922007-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:002007-04-27T07:03:35.229-07:00

Comments like these, and so many that you all post, are the reson I do this blog. I write to find that I'm not alone, but it's not often I get a comment that is not just so unbelievably supportive and full of great advice (you all do that for me!)... I literally could have written this entire comment. I'm working on a post about the precedence of "changing minds" when it comes to marriage,

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-80185992862807409962007-04-25T19:01:00.000-07:002007-04-25T19:20:41.030-07:00

What do you say to a friend who's facing the decision of becoming a single mother? To someone you love who's dealing with a disrespectful husband whose only good quality left is that, when he's around, he's a really good dad to their kids? (But really, all he does is play good cop to her bad cop and call mommy a poopyhead for giving them a strict punishment for not following the rules.) What do

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-47261220456036958162007-04-22T11:19:00.000-07:002007-04-22T18:22:30.644-07:00

I'm touched that you've noticed my absence. I'll explain the goings on of the last couple weeks in another post.So you want to know how the big family weekend at the waterpark hotel was? In a word: Claustrophobic. 16 of us in a hotel suite designed for a maximum of 15 people. And let's not forget the nephew's birthday party, when we stuffed over 20 in only one of the rooms. Yeah, big giant fun. I

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-4233066424789091242007-04-04T11:59:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:19:18.620-07:00

So again I enter a family gathering with the in-laws where I’m dreading the confrontation. As I mentioned in a recent post, the family is being brought together at an indoor waterpark for a bit of a reunion. Far flung siblings and their spouses are traveling, some flying in. This is a big deal. And it’s going to be a disaster. It won’t be a disaster for the families with kids. I’m confused,

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-29728771424047180722007-03-30T09:19:00.000-07:002007-03-30T09:31:59.372-07:00

We have a saying in the graphic design business that is echoed throughout many industries: Good, Fast, or Cheap—Pick Any Two. It's just a way of telling clients that they can't have everything they want. If they want it Fast, it's either going to cost them plenty or the quality will suffer. If they want it Cheap, they'll need to be willing to wait behind priority projects if they want the best

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-83586795602900128092007-03-27T20:07:00.000-07:002007-03-27T20:49:42.711-07:00

It seems to be all around, people who never wanted kids getting clucky all over the place. The phrase "I used to be childfree" makes me squirm. "Oh, you'll change your mind" is a favorite amongst the critics of my choice not to procreate… that or "what if you change your mind?" It makes my blood boil, but at the same time it's a somewhat valid point. The fact is, biology makes us that way. It

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-9190660760879914642007-03-25T20:48:00.000-07:002007-03-25T22:10:45.368-07:00

The perfect irony, really. I was preparing to post on my primary journal about my wonderful weekend, a perfect weekend, really, when I read my best friend's post entitled, strangely enough, "A Perfect Weekend". I was thrilled to see this — she deserves a perfect weekend, and it's a joy to read that she's happy and things are going well. Her post did underscore the vast differences between what

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-82159527501878490252007-03-21T12:01:00.000-07:002007-03-21T12:29:30.492-07:00

I am very intrigued by the life of a particular friend of mine. A mother of two, she’s always been prolific in her blogging and seemingly very honest about her experience as a housewife and stay-at-home mom, the mostly good stories tempered by the occasional crazy or bad one. She’s pregnant again with their “trying for a boy” baby (in my experience parents only have three children when their

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-83757701232918415702007-03-21T09:51:00.000-07:002007-03-21T09:52:37.190-07:00

The last few months has been tense. I’ve dealt with my grandfather’s serious illness, my father’s depression and trips to Oregon to see him, I traveled to Portland as well, where I saw him on his deathbed and spoke with his wife. We learned how heartbroken he was that his two other children, the ones he spent his life doting on most, did not travel and were only concerned about his estate, while

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-42606477068703056002007-01-24T06:53:00.000-08:002007-01-24T07:18:27.561-08:00

The guilt is starting to become overwhelming. I’m speaking of the guilt about keeping this blog a secret from my best friend, especially since she and her family are mentioned anonymously on occasion. However, as this blog seems to be gaining more readers every day (for which I’m very touched), it’s inevitable that she or someone who knows us will stumble upon it. She and I have had many

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-37679157610648752542007-01-17T07:58:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:05:29.071-08:00

Something broke my heart a little last night. My boss darted into my elevator at the end of the normal workday with me. Because this is so odd, him leaving at 5:30 when the rest of the office clears, I made a note of it. “Wow, leaving at a decent hour today! Good for you!” I said to him. He looked at me with a half smile, then said in a defeated, deflated voice, “yeah, it’s my son’s birthday and

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-80164017791785340872007-01-07T17:57:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:55:10.075-07:00

It seems to be quite bizarre that my group of friends are entering our thirties without children. It's something that has made my life, up to this point, easier. I knew the tide was approaching, but I didn't expect the tides to change quite so rapidly. While I still have a handful of childfree friends, they do seem to be dropping like flies. My childfree sista, the girl who gave me a word for

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-70957605134748790272007-01-04T11:07:00.000-08:002007-01-04T12:59:59.292-08:00

It’s hard to say when I became enamored with the city. Was it as a child, on rare outings with my parents when we’d go shopping in Chicago? More likely it was in high school when having fun meant a 45-90 minute drive to either Milwaukee or Chicago and out out out of my hometown of Kenosha. 45 minutes past farmland (which has now largely turned into condos) and subdivisions; out of hell and into a

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-54704235513015635862007-01-02T22:01:00.000-08:002007-01-02T22:35:14.458-08:00

My husband and I were confronted with the prospect of getting a dog this weekend. On the way home from our New Years Eve party, our designated driver nearly hit an adorable pekingese puppy. He collected the dog, who approached him immediately and was quick to snuggle, and brought him into the car. Like most pekingese, he had silky, long fur that had clearly been recently groomed; the pads of his

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-11642795042755235182006-12-28T14:43:00.001-08:002011-04-06T14:37:57.761-07:00

It's a well-known fact that the earth, the universe and everything revolves around my nephews. And while I find it admirable that their parents are instilling them with a fine sense of self-worth (low self-esteem certainly won't be among their issues), I find it incredibly stupid that the word "no", in addition to having been completely erased from their mother's own vocabulary, has simply never

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-6066866910493811342006-12-26T14:03:00.000-08:002006-12-28T14:07:00.930-08:00

It was asked recently of a contributor to a blog I frequent called Purple Women whether she considered "being childless" as being something that defined who she was. I found it a fascinating question, and one that I've wondered about often.I find it intriguing that if a mother was asked to define herself, no one would question if "I'm a mom" came early on in the description, or even it was the

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-13204845965330147132006-12-16T23:45:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:12:34.777-08:00

I was reading an advice column in Pink, a magazine for businesswomen, and it's made me very upset. There was a time when I had the opportunity to be interviewed for an article on childfree women in the workplace, but because I and the writer were never able to connect, it never happened. This turned out to be a good thing, because after reading the article she wrote, I got the impression that I'd

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-14745377613401544692006-12-14T07:55:00.000-08:002008-01-25T09:43:14.126-08:00

I’ve noticed throughout my years of journaling that I tend to fall into the same rut; when I’m stressed, need to vent or some other outlet for pain, aggression, frustration, I journal. When I’m content or – gods forbid – happy, I don’t find the need to journal as much. That is the rut I’m afraid to fall into with Childfree Me. I’ve decided to invest some time to talk about the good times, why I

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-67194777089894200982006-12-11T10:48:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:56:11.220-07:00

Relationships fail. What seemed a good idea at one time can later feel like a huge mistake; it’s a fact of life. In recent months I’ve seen several long-term relationships break up; one an engagement that, in hindsight we say “thank god the wedding never happened” to a match that wasn’t as wonderful as we all thought; the other a 10-year marriage stressed by years of law school and living a

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-68492984091294193582006-11-22T12:26:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:55:42.273-07:00

A friend of mine, along with her husband, is currently looking to the foster care system to find a child. I decided to look into the kids "available" to get an idea what she was in for.It was interesting, and I found myself saying that "yeah, if we change our minds, I can do this", thinking an older child would save the trouble of younger kids, which is the main part of childrearing that I am not

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-64507203078674748302006-11-21T13:34:00.000-08:002006-11-21T14:28:53.737-08:00

"We're still going to go out dancing and see our friends!""Yeah?""No, we're having a baby.""But we're still going to have lots of sex.""Yeah?""No, we're having a baby."When this conversation went on between Turk and Carla on Scrubs, it resonated. I recalled when a friend had a baby and their sex life stalled immediately. The reason? Her husband didn't think of her as his lover, his wife, even a

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-7584139032329506222006-11-20T20:53:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:55:55.434-07:00

Another pregnancy announced today. Another birth. Two babies and three pregnancies in the last month or two. I'm thrilled for them all, of course, and I marvel at the changes that are going to be happening in the next year.Every year we go camping with a variety of couples. There's about 20 of us (about 8 couples, a few single folk) that shuffle in and out of who's coming and going, but there's a

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-34307980304588348232006-11-19T22:25:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:38:12.151-07:00

We went to dinner with my in-laws tonight. I debuted the idea of us considering maybe opening my business in New Orleans after my husband graduates if their economy is ready for a marketing/design startup (the plan is to begin research now, look into grants, etc). It was not received warmly, but I don't think anyone gave it much credence. That's probably okay.Overall, though, dinner was not

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-34116692570342564962006-11-13T22:56:00.000-08:002006-11-13T22:58:35.911-08:00

And, as quickly as it began, the emptiness and weirdness fades away.A look at the blogs of other childfree women, of childfree advocacy groups, and articles about them… A look at these reminds me that I'm not alone.That is the answer then: too much time spent in a world where I don't belong, among the clucky, the childLESS, the parents. It's not my world, and that's why I was feeling so empty.It

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-85483082693694809962006-11-13T21:19:00.000-08:002011-04-06T14:38:25.766-07:00

I'm enjoying writing my NaNoWriMo novella, but it's becoming more personal than I intended. The interesting thing about this process, writing so quickly and so stream-of-conscious-ly (necessary if one hopes to ever make the deadlines) is that the story takes on a life of its own.The main character in my novel is a childfree woman, about my age. My inspiration for her was my friend's cousin

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-5036685526896554372006-11-10T18:05:00.000-08:002006-11-13T22:18:14.330-08:00

I don't know what it is, but I've been feeling awful all day. I'm currently writing a novella for National Novel Writing Month with a childfree theme and I've been doing a lot of research. I suspect my über-emotional state has to do with a few things:1) Reading too much about infertile women, and miscarriage stories to ensure I do right by one of my characters2) Too many friends announcing

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-32379522160805963982006-11-09T22:43:00.000-08:002006-11-13T22:52:04.253-08:00

I got the most unbelievable validation from my husband's best friend. He's known my in-laws for nearly 20 years, and the only authority other than my husband who can pass judgments on the way I'm choosing to handle things with the family.So to all of those who accuse me of being melodramatic, overthinking the issue of telling my in-laws about our childfree-ness…What he said, to paraphrase:"I

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-1162872132630548182006-11-06T19:41:00.000-08:002006-11-13T15:29:29.473-08:00

Awesome.I liked Studio 60 from the moment I saw it for no other reason than it's smart TV, and smart TV on network has been such a rarity. I never thought I'd see a smart show portraying a likable childfree character. Well, at least *I* like her. For a bit of background, Studio 60 centers around the behind-the-scenes of a Saturday Night Live-style sketch comedy show and the network that's

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-1161011733873993312006-10-16T07:26:00.000-07:002006-11-13T15:29:29.385-08:00

My step-grandfather, Loren, passed away on Saturday night, with only one of his children present, and while she was sad, she also complained A LOT about all the work she would have to miss, and various other inconveniences that this would bring upon her. His children were involved with the decision to take him off the machines, but that was it. Granted, they are not local, but my grandmother's

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14816443.post-1159761848809567282006-10-01T20:59:00.000-07:002011-04-06T14:57:06.762-07:00

This is a post I made to my LiveJournal that I'm also posting here. To preface, my grandmother's second husband is dying. I learned this early this morning. We also joined my husband's maternal family for a dinner to mark the 10-year-anniversary of his mother's death. It has been a rough day. I feel emotionally drained. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, just drained. I've been drained from

Stashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15440437922934786574noreply@blogger.com1