Not even with kids, just wife and those in-laws and family and those out-laws, and I already feel like I’m in over my head. Kids might break me, were definitely only having 1 if any (or twins, it would be unfair to pick just one of them, and if we did we’d undoubtedly screw up and pick the evil one)
Kids are great. I mean they’ll break you for sure, but in good ways. Challenge you. You’ve got probably 8-10 years where they adore you no matter who you are. Then a few years where they barely tolerate you no matter who you are. And then you get to find out whether you did good or fucked everything all up.
Forget raising them. They observe and mostly raise themselves other than sometimes needing some help or advice that they may or may not ask for or accept. They’ll be bits of you peppered in with bits of your wife and a bit of someone you don’t even recognize.
And none of them are evil, though when you’re ripping up carpet because your daughter wanted to know how many gallons of water the towels in her closet could hold, or repainting because your toddler is Pablo Poopcasso, you might think so.
But there are special moments you couldn’t have with anyone else in this planet. And I’m not saying they make everything else worth it — no they just give you enough sustenance to try to hold onto your sanity a bit longer. But the experience is unique and worthwhile.
Sorry, I’m not trying to talk you into kids, just got me vibing thinking about mine. I have five. Three are out of the house. And raising them has been a wonderful and humbling experience. But I don’t have room left to fawn over anyone else.
Not even with kids, just wife and those in-laws and family and those out-laws, and I already feel like I’m in over my head. Kids might break me, were definitely only having 1 if any (or twins, it would be unfair to pick just one of them, and if we did we’d undoubtedly screw up and pick the evil one)
Kids are great. I mean they’ll break you for sure, but in good ways. Challenge you. You’ve got probably 8-10 years where they adore you no matter who you are. Then a few years where they barely tolerate you no matter who you are. And then you get to find out whether you did good or fucked everything all up.
Forget raising them. They observe and mostly raise themselves other than sometimes needing some help or advice that they may or may not ask for or accept. They’ll be bits of you peppered in with bits of your wife and a bit of someone you don’t even recognize.
And none of them are evil, though when you’re ripping up carpet because your daughter wanted to know how many gallons of water the towels in her closet could hold, or repainting because your toddler is Pablo Poopcasso, you might think so.
But there are special moments you couldn’t have with anyone else in this planet. And I’m not saying they make everything else worth it — no they just give you enough sustenance to try to hold onto your sanity a bit longer. But the experience is unique and worthwhile.
Sorry, I’m not trying to talk you into kids, just got me vibing thinking about mine. I have five. Three are out of the house. And raising them has been a wonderful and humbling experience. But I don’t have room left to fawn over anyone else.