envying families with children

Your Childless by Marriage Survival Guide

Sue Fagalde Lick baby showers, Childless Woman's Survival Guide, envying families with children, grandparent envy, nosy questions, questions about having children , , , , , , , , , , ,

Survival guide? I can hear the naysayers now. “What’s so hard about not having children? You’ve got nothing to worry about but yourself.”

Wrong! In a world where most people become parents, those of us who don’t procreate face a few special challenges, including feeling shut out by your friends with kids, getting dumped on at work because everyone assumes you have nothing else to do, and the mother-in-law who keeps buying stuffed animals for her unborn grandchildren.

In this second to last new post at the Childless by Marriage blog, I offer a few suggestions.

1) The question: Do you have children? For most people, it’s just a conversation starter, but answering “no” may start the conversation in a direction you’d rather not travel. So have a reply ready. I used to tell people I had three stepchildren, which usually satisfied folks, but since I no longer see the steps and I’m considerably older, I just say, “No, I never had any children.” My friend Jill replies, “I have dogs.” Another friend just looks them in the eye and asks, “Why?”

2) The next question: Why don’t you have children? Telling folks you hate kids will not win you many friends. If you wanted children but your partner was unwilling or unable, it’s not cool to put all the blame on them. This is a person you love, right? You’re in this together. (If you’re not on the same page, you need to figure out whether you should stay together). For a few years, you can say you’re not quite ready yet, but after that, you need a better excuse. You could say, “We decided children were not for us,” “Our lives were already so full,” or “We tried, but it didn’t work out, so we got a dog.” If you have fertility issues, talking about them may earn pity, but who needs that? I just say, “God had other plans for me.” Then I change the subject. You can always turn it around and ask, “Why do you have children?”

3) Baby showers: Men don’t have to worry as much about this, but it can be a nightmare for childless women. The longer your friends live with babies, the more you wonder if they have lost their minds. At baby showers, women who have given birth terrify the guest of honor by telling harrowing labor stories. They play obstetric word puzzles and hold timed doll-diapering contests before enjoying a long orgy of unwrapping gifts. You will be the only woman who puts the diaper on backwards, who has nothing to contribute to the conversation, and who buys a doll-sized lace dress the child will be too big for at birth. You have two choices: tell someone else’s birth stories and sip as much fortified punch as you can, or decline the invitation, pleading work, a funeral, or some other obligation you can’t get out of. Send a card with money tucked inside. Cash always works.

4) Baby lust: No matter how comfortable you may be most of the time with your status as a childless person, once in a while you are going to want to cuddle an infant and talk baby talk. Borrow a baby. A sibling, co-worker or friend will be delighted to pass her child to you for a while so she can take a break. Borrowing an infant is like renting that Lexus you could never afford to buy. In both cases, when they need servicing, you give them back.

5) Baby talk: In their reproductive years, your friends and co-workers will spend hours discussing their children’s schools, illnesses, and annoying or endearing habits. Later, they will talk about their grandchildren’s schools, illnesses, and annoying or endearing habits. When you mention your puppy’s new chew toy, they just stare at you. Find a child you can talk about. Stepchildren work well, also nieces and nephews, students or the neighbor’s kid down the street. Collect stories you can share when the talk is all about kids. Worst case, reminisce about your own childhood.

6) Acting like a child: Ever pass an arcade and want to drop in a few quarters but everyone there is either a child or a parent? Ever miss playing marbles, jacks or Barbies? Play them alone, and people think you’re nuts. Play them with a child and you are helping, teaching, interacting. So, borrow a kid—with his parents’ permission—and have fun. You’ll get a reputation for being great with children, and their parents will be grateful because they’re sick of playing video games and searching for Barbie’s itty-bitty high heels.

7) The empty nest syndrome: Everyone has an empty nest eventually. Kids grow up and move away, and parents suddenly wonder what happened to their lives. You’re way ahead of them because your nest was never full. If you need something to feed and clean up after, get a dog. The dog will never learn to drive, never get married, never tell you she’s embarrassed to be seen with you. Dogs never ask for money or bring home bags of dirty clothes for you to wash. Overall, dogs are more fun than kids. And I’ll bet most of your friends who are raising tiny humans would agree.

8) You are not alone: With more and more people opting not to have children (or get married), you are not the only person without offspring. When you find someone else who is childless, talk to them, invite them to a meal, do things together. Eventually, the parent-people will look up and see you again when their kids no longer need constant supervision. Meanwhile, you don’t have to be alone. If you look around, you’ll find that people without kids are part of the new normal.

Dear friends, what would you add to this list? What is your best advice for childless by marriage readers?

One more post to go before I stop posting regularly here at the Childless by Marriage blog. What would you like to read here? I will keep up the website, with its reference list and an index of the 900 posts I have published over the years. You can still comment. I will read your comments and respond.

The Childless by Marriage Facebook page will continue. If you haven’t visited there, give it a try.

If you want to know what I’m up to these days, visit my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack at https://suelick.substack.com or friend me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/suelick. 

Thanks for reading Childless by Marriage!

Childless stand out when surrounded by children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless and baby pictures, envying families with children, family as code for children, traveling alone , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends:

I live in a childfree bubble. I had to get away from my home on the Oregon coast to see that. Where I live, hanging out mostly with people over 60, I just don’t see a lot of children. Sure, my friends will show off photos of their grandkids, and sometimes they jet off to spend time with them, but day to day, no kids.

Traveling around the Southwestern United States has shown me what many of you see as you negotiate your childless lives wherever you live. 

I’m currently staying in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are kids everywhere, in the restaurants, in the hotel elevator, dominating the swimming pool, and at every tourist attraction. In this multicultural city, children of every color follow their parents and siblings like ducks. 

Last night at a JC Penney restroom, four kids and their mother filled all the stalls, yelling to each other in Spanish, voices amplified by the tile walls. I encountered the same children in the dressing room, banging on doors and laughing as I tried on pants. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to behave. 

Mean old gringa lady. 

I want to be the nice elderly woman children love, but sometimes I feel more like a witch. I’m just not used to kids. 

I spent a few days in Tucson, Arizona, staying with a cousin at her deluxe retirement home. While she was at church, I tried to write. An electronic photo frame nearby kept changing pictures, almost all of them of my cousin’s only grandchild. Cute kid, even more precious because she was adopted after her parents could not conceive, but I got tired of looking at her. If I had my own children, would I have that warm squishy feeling mothers seem to get when they see little ones, the feeling I get with dogs? 

My cousin’s daughter and granddaughter visit often. They travel together. The daughter helps with financial and technical things. When she moved to this home, the daughter and two stepsons did most of the work. 

When she told me that, I kept silent, but I was thinking, gee that must be nice. If/when I decide to move to a home for old folks, I’ll be doing the work myself or paying someone to help. 

As I struggled to sleep on the child-sized big-girl bed in the guest room, with toys stashed in the closet and under the bed, I felt like a perpetual child myself. 

I’m not complaining. Just noticing. My life is so very different. I’m obsessed with my writing and music; they’re obsessed with their families. They have Christmas photos of the whole gang in matching pajamas. I have selfies or pictures of my dog. 

If you are childless and find yourself in a culture where everyone seems to have children, you may find yourself not mentioning your childless state unless asked directly about your kids. You keep it to yourself, aware that saying you never had children can be like saying you’re a Democrat in a room full of Republicans. What? You never had children? They may not say it out loud, but now you’re branded as the childless one. You’re definitely the odd one if you’re traveling alone like me.

As I signed the guest book at a museum the other day, I noticed all the visitors before me were family groups, the Smiths, the Fisher family, etc. I saw no other single names. I signed my name, paid my donation, and moved on. What else can you do? 

Yesterday morning in Albuquerque, I found a seat away from the crowd in the breakfast room and watched the traffic go by. So many mothers, fathers, and kids, the children following like sheep or bounding ahead demanding pancakes or Lucky Charms. The parents could not relax with their own food because they had to help the kids, but I don’t think they minded. They moved and ate as a family. Later, they left the hotel rolling their big and little suitcases, and it looked so nice to be part of a family. 

But oh, my tea and my cinnamon roll slathered with butter tasted so good. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else as I finished quickly and hurried upstairs to write undisturbed.

Outside the elevator, I ran into a couple with a gorgeous German shepherd that dashed up to sniff me. She knew I was a dog mom, not a mother of little humans. I wanted to bury my face in her lush fur.

I am learning so much on this trip, part work and part vacation. 

Sometimes you can’t get away from the big division between you and the parenting people. It isn’t always a bad thing, but it is a thing. 

Are you surrounded by children where you live? Or do you find them when you travel? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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The soft kiss of a little girl

Sue Fagalde Lick childless Catholic, childless grief, envying families with children, not giving your parents grandchildren, your parents with other people's children
Every Sunday at St. Martin’s Church in San Jose, a 4-year-old girl named Camille comes running to the row of seats near the back where my father sits and throws her arms around him. This stern 91-year-old man melts. “My girlfriend,” he calls her. Camille is a beautiful child with long wavy hair, dewy skin and big blue eyes. Dad often talks about her, telling me how smart and fearless she is, how she already knows how to read, how she’s starting school next year. Visiting from Oregon, I watch them, so jealous I could weep.
Camille has a 2-year-old brother and a 1-year-old sister (no Catholic jokes, please). They are all beautiful children and a handful for their parents. The mom and dad spend the Mass feeding them Cheerios, reading to them, shushing them, and taking them out when they get too squirmy. I don’t envy them that part of it.
During the sermon, the littlest girl stares up at my father, raises her tiny hand, and Dad matches his giant hairy brown hand against it. In this sweet moment, I realize how much my father actually likes little children and I could die for not having given him any, for not making him a grandfather.
My father keeps the family’s Christmas card, with pictures of all the kids, on the piano with pictures of me and my brother and my brother’s kids.
Before Mass, Dad introduced me to the young parents, and the mother told Camille, “This is his little girl all grown up.” Yes, I am my father’s little girl, still going to church alone with him when I visit California and staying with the choir back in Oregon because otherwise I’d be going to Mass alone.
At the sign of peace, my father hugs me and then I see Camille reaching up for me. She kisses me on the cheek, the softest sweetest butterfly kiss. How I wish I could hold on to it forever. If only that perfect family were mine.
Know what I mean?