Once Again, They Assume Everyone has Children

Black cat with gold eyes sitting in a flowerpot among purple flowers that might be lavender. Background is blurred, shades of tan and green.

The workshop leader was talking about reasons to publish a poetry book. First on her list: It’s something to show your grandchildren.

Once again, it was assumed we all have or will have grandchildren. Not me. Maybe not you. The only one I have had around to show anything lately was a cat.

I was collecting my trash a few days ago when a black Persian cat came out of the woods and seemed to want to be my friend. As he swished back and forth across my legs, I gave him the tour: This is my garage. This is my car. This is my back yard. He said, “Meow” and kept following me.

The cat was beautiful, but I’m allergic, and he was too healthy to not be someone’s pet, so I didn’t let him into the house even though I was dying for someone to talk to, someone who could see my home and appreciate everything in it, including my books.

It can get lonely out here. People always assume we have kids if we’re a certain age. They also assume those kids will be around all the time, which is not true for many families. Just like everyone assumes we’ll be right-handed and some of us, like me, are not.

When this poet I admire said that at the workshop, did I pop in and say, “Hey some of us don’t have grandchildren?” No. She wasn’t taking comments or questions at that point, and it was not related to what we were talking about. She didn’t mean to offend. She offered other reasons to write a book, including having something to say and wanting to share it, maybe wanting to help, entertain, or inform. You don’t need children or grandchildren for any of that. In fact, I would bet most writers’ families aren’t that interested in their books. I know that’s true of mine. Some of them don’t even know I write.

But there are a lot of things besides books we might want to share with our children and grandchildren: family history and photographs, art, crafts, recipes, our religious faith, our vision of right and wrong, our favorite music, or movies we love. So many things.

We can work or volunteer with kids, reach out to other children in the family or among our friends. We can do all the stuff well-meaning people suggest, but it is not the same, at least not for me.

As always, I have questions:

  • What should we do in a situation where someone assumes we all have children? Should we speak up and make a “thing” of it or let it go? Take them aside later and say, “You know, I don’t have children or grandchildren? What is the best way to handle this?
  • What would you like to show your grandchildren if you could? Is there someone else you can share it with instead?
  • Met any great cats lately?

Photo by Katarzyna Modrzejewska on Pexels.com

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I hope you had a peaceful Thanksgiving. I ended up with friends from church whom I didn’t know well and several other people I didn’t know at all, but we had a good time. They all had grown children but were not with them on that day for various reasons. They mentioned them briefly but didn’t dwell on it. The subject of my childlessness never came up. We talked about other things. How about you? Was it a day of gritting teeth or lots of fun?

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The Childless Collective Summit starts Saturday. All online, it offers four days of workshops, talks, and information for those who don’t have children. Attendance is FREE, although you can purchase a pass to watch the recordings at your leisure. Click here for information.

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Maybe I shouldn’t have used my real name

Dear friends,

I have been reading old posts and your wonderful comments in the hope of bringing everything up to date and putting together a “Best-of” Childless by Marriage book. So many of you say nice things about my blog and about me. I am so grateful. You have no idea how much your support and your comments help me. We’re all in this situation together.

I wish I could be anonymous like you. Some members of my family have taken great offense at my posts. Maybe I should have chosen a pen name, ala Dear Sugar or Dear Abby. Too late now. To all of them, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me, but you who have spouses and children and grandchildren have no idea what it’s like for those of us who don’t. Lucky you.

Meanwhile, I want to pay homage to some of the people who have been commenting here for years. Anon S., SilverShiloh, Candy, loribeth, Tony, Marybeth, Crystal, Mali, Jenny, and so many others, including many Anonymouses whom I can tell apart by the way you write, a million thank yous. To those who have bravely used their real names, you rock. To those who have just started reading, welcome. Let’s take a minute to picture ourselves in a big room together and thank each other. C’mon, group hug. Pass the hot toddies around. Ooh, and the fudge.

Ah, yum.

Can you all come to my house next Christmas?

***

So, the old church choir director job is gone :-(, and I have moved to a new church, where I can sing, play guitar and tambourine if I want, and shout “Hallelujah” if I feel so moved. 🙂 There’s no pay, and I’m not in charge of the music, but I feel welcome there. Like my old church, this one is also Catholic, but it’s a less repressive version which most of my friends escaped to before I did.

Joining a new parish means filling out a registration form for my “family.” That paper is going to have a lot of blank spots. Spouse? Employer? Children? Yikes. However, on the other side is a list of tasks people can volunteer to do. I can check off a whole bunch of them—music, bulletin, stitchery, bazaar–maybe more than others because of all those blank spaces on the “family” side. Something to be grateful for.

Just like I’m grateful for you.

Hang in there. Christmas will be over in two weeks. In three weeks, we get a bright shiny new year. And a new decade. Isn’t that amazing? We are already 20 years into the 2000s. And we’re still here.

 

Are you hurting during the holidays?


At least once every holiday season, I have a meltdown. I sit between the Christmas movies on TV and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree and cry. It seems like everywhere I go everybody is celebrating Christmas with their kids, whether it’s the school holiday pageant, my friends all heading out to be with their children and grandchildren, or those TV shows where everybody is gathered together, young and old, from babies to great-grandparents. Here, it’s just me and the dog. I will be spending Christmas afternoon with a childless friend at his senior citizen mobile home park potluck. That will be nice, but it’s not exactly a Hallmark holiday.
Last week I wrote about getting off our pity pots and joining up with our friends and family with kids to help them and to ease our own grief. I still think it’s a good idea. But let’s be honest. Sometimes we’re just hurting too much to do that sort of thing. We just want to hide under the covers until the holidays are over. Watching other people with their kids is the last thing we want to do.
“It’s just another day,” says my Scrooge-y father, who does no Christmas decorations or other festivities. He just writes a few checks for his kids and calls it Christmas. He never was big on holidays and since Mom died, forget about it. He has children and grandchildren, but he doesn’t do warm, fuzzy relationships.
It’s all about attitude. I plan to make the best of my holidays. I will enjoy the food and friends, the music and colored lights. I will enjoy giving and receiving presents. I will be working my church music job Christmas Eve and Christmas morning—my choice—to keep myself busy. I plan to have fun at that potluck. Will I shed a few tears? Probably.
Dad also likes to say, “It is what it is.”
I don’t want to alienate anyone by getting all religious, but think about what we are celebrating this time of year, whether you’re welcoming the birth of Jesus, celebrating Hanukkah, or enjoying the winter solstice. Whether or not you have children has very little to do with it. Try to see the blessings that you have, even if you’re looking at them through tears. To paraphrase the old Crosby, Stills and Nash song, “Love the ones you’re with.”
And turn off the TV if it makes you cry.
How are you doing this week? Please share in the comments.