kids incorporated

So I was in a museum the other day and I was surrounded by kids. Stuffing their faces with hamburgers and chicken nuggets, fries and soda (this was one kid, by the way) and as I glanced around the cafeteria I wondered for a few minutes as mothers cut nuggets and purelled tables, chairs and children—do I HAVE TO join this club? I mean, these people, these parents were all young once, independent and happy. Now they’ve traded freedom for french-fries and are seemingly content to wiping faces and passing out napkins where they once sat like me, chilin’ drinking my diet coke surfing the web. What happens to people like me, why must we give up our identities to morph into this “parent” creature?
Let it be said at once that I’ve never been one of those chicks who goes loopy over baby poop or mental at miniature dresses and socks. I’m just not like that. And I don’t mean to insult people who’s whole focus is procreation, that’s cool.
It’s just not me.
I’m just wondering why we create this whole other life for ourselves before we decide to have children only to squash it and become a constantly overwhelmed ball of nerves who resembles nothing of what we once were?
As you know I recently went to visit my cousin ali and what she goes through literally brought me to tears one day out of sheer exhaustion. I have an massive amount of respect for her and ABSOLUTELY no idea how people do it, and maybe that’s where this is coming from.
but HOLY SHIT! None of the people in this cafeteria look happy (forget about well-rested); they all are consumed with feeding, cleaning and getting home as soon as possible.
Is this an existence?
I’m just asking.
I am not at the baby stage in my life and have never really looked at it longingly, rather inevitably prepared to accept the fact that I will one day be ready and totally distracted from my life and obsessed with becoming pregnant.
Not seeing that happening anytime soon—sorry dad!
It’s like I’m riding this high-speed train, and it’s making all these exciting and interesting stops and then BAM! One day I decide I need to have kids and have to get off the train FOREVER. I mean, you don’t get to get back on the train again till you’re 106 and your kids are grown up and not living in your house or borrowing your car…it’s never the same again.
It’s just, as a simple observer, weird to me to watch these adults negotiating with their toddlers and tweens about soda versus juice, while they could have been the president of a bank or a geometry teacher in a former life, they now squat down and barter with their kids; “eat all your nuggets and we can watch Dora in the car on the ride home,” I heard one say. They have dissolved into this person the kids have to deal with between tv shows.
Maybe it’s American culture to overfeed and over-negotiate with your children; maybe what I need is perspective.
I’m sure there’s a place somewhere where it’s simply a stress-free delight to have and raise children…
Right?

RIGHT?!