Okay…this is going to be an honest post. Not that any of my other posts weren’t honest. But this one has the potential to sting a bit. And I’m going for it anyway.

First off, let me say that this is not a complaint. It is simply an observation, which is what Dually Noted is all about. Going though this Friends with Kids (FWKs) thing with Lori has been (and continues to be) interesting, to say the least. Not because the situation is new to me, I have several FWKs, but because I’m willing to put effort into a type of friendship that has a track record of going bankrupt, or, at best, stagnating. And I really don’t have the tolerance, patience, or interest to devote that much time to something that is doomed. I’m willing to take a chance on Lori though because, in my opinion, Lori is worth it. From day one, she’s always given…given her energy, her time, her opinions, her honesty, her fun. Not many people, with or without kids, do that. Most people take.

So I’m willing to put up with a lot more from a FWK when it comes to Lori than I have with other FWKs in my past.

With that being said, let me begin to explain my most recent FWK observation.

Bridget, our guest writer on Wednesday, said something that really hit home with me. She said one of the hazards of Childfree Friends (CFFs) is “that they seem to assume a lot.” In other words, we CFF won’t even bother calling a FWK to see if she can come out to play because we assume she is busy doing something with her kids. And I have to admit, I’ve done that already with Lori. I can easily list off a half a dozen activities I haven’t called her about because I figured she’d be too tired (from working and taking care of Matteo) or too busy (taking care of Matteo) or because it would be too much work (to get all of Matteo’s shit together and get their butts somewhere on time and in one piece and without too much stress).

But in my and other CFFs defense, that is usually what happens whenever we ask our FWKs if they can come out to play…we usually are told the excuses/reasons I mentioned above before getting shot down. We don’t take it personally. We don’t get mad at our FWK. We understand the situation they are in. But we also don’t feel like constantly being told “no” and we don’t want to make our FWKs feel bad by constantly being the ones saying “no.”

And I think the assuming thing goes both ways. FWK assume that CFF are always ready, at the drop of a dime, to do something. They assume we have more time in our day because we aren’t taking care of a kid. They assume that we can travel more often or farther. They assume that we have more money to spend or time to spend or energy to spend. They assume that everything is easier for us. But the reality of it is, we are just as tired, just as busy, just as broke, and have only 24-hours in a day just like people with kids. It just so happens that our energy/money/time/life isn’t spent on our offspring. But it’s spent on something or someone else.

This Monday, Emmett and I are going to Sal and Lori’s for a Memorial Day gathering (and for Lori and I do our Micromovement Monday session…yippee!). Earlier in the week, I told her that it was going to be warmer in our neck of the woods than hers (by 10 degrees!) and maybe we should have the shindig over at our place. I left the door open, put it out there only as a suggestion, and said I was willing to go either place but thought I’d put the idea on the table for consideration. But we’re keeping it at Lori’s because, as she said, with all of Matteo’s stuff, it’s just easier that way.

Easier. For her. For most of my friendships with FWKs, that’s how it always starts. And that’s why it usually ends.

As I said in the beginning, I’m not complaining…just observing. This has not been a pattern with Lori. In most cases, she’s willing to go anywhere and do anything. But we’re now in Matteo’s sixth month of existence…and this is the first time she has said this to me. I will not assume anything. And I hope she doesn’t either.

I just got done reading the weekly blog of my favorite art project on this planet…PostSecret. For those of you who have never had the mind-blowing experience of PostSecret, I highly, highly suggest (strongly encourage, can’t recommend enough) you get your butt over to the site and dive in. It’s amazing. People write their secrets on a postcard and send it in. Sounds simple doesn’t it? It is anything but! My mood, my attitude, my day is always changed after I visit PostSecret.

In honor of Mother’s Day, this week’s PostSecret was all about moms. I laughed at, I cried over, I cringed at, I related to, I doubted, and I wondered about the messages/secrets/revelations that were sent in. All in all, I came to the conclusion that it is, indeed, a strange relationship we have with our mothers. I’m still trying to figure out (deal with?) mine. I have little doubt it plays a role in why I don’t want to have children.

Notice I said “don’t want to have children” instead of what I usually say, which is “choose to be childfree.” When I think of my mom, I think about not wanting kids. When I think about my life, I think about being childfree.

I’m not saying that my mom was a bad mom. Au contraire, mes amis (my apologies to any French-speaking readers if I just butchered that). I have a great mom. The problem isn’t my mom. The problem is BEING a mom. It is, perhaps, the most thankless, undervalued (and devalued), underappreciated human (and animal) role on this planet. If men could have babies, you know the position (both of father and of baby maker) would be elevated to that of Holiest of All…and I can only imagine how different this world would be. I mean, shit, think about it; women create LIFE. It’s magical. It’s amazing. It’s totally cool. But being a mom…well, being a mom isn’t always all that. And, speaking from experience, kids take for granted all that their moms have done for them, including the whole giving of life thing, until they are in their 30s. At least. And even by then some still don’t get it. We are selfish, ungrateful leeches. But hey, we didn’t ask to be born. (See!!)

Over the past few weeks, there has been a change in Lori’s demeanor. She can’t seem to settle down (not that she ever really settles down, but in this case, it’s more obvious than ever). Her inner calm that I’ve always been drawn too (I spaz, arms flailing about…she gives a look, shakes her head, and laughs) seems to be broke. There is a sudden sense of urgency, a need to move, a desire to find direction. And for what?

For her.

Women who choose to raise children have two paths available to them: the path of “Mom” or the path of “Woman with Kids.” You go down one path and you change your identity, shedding the old for the new. You go down the other and you modify your identity, incorporating the new with the old. One is not better than the other. They simply are options. It’s up to you to make the most of whichever one you choose.

Perhaps Lori has come to this fork in the road. All the anticipation and prep that comes with having a baby, and that has given her life direction for the last year, is over. Matteo is here and now she stands at this fork facing choice. Will she be “Mom” or “Woman with Kids”? Which one is more appealing to her? Which one can she handle the best? And more importantly, what will each require her to give up and what rewards will there be for her to reap?

I see now that the friends with kids I still have in my life are the ones that have chosen “Woman with Kids” over “Mom.” It’s probably obvious why, for those who know me or who have been following this blog for a while. I joke that Lori has ADD, but I think I’m the one that invented it. It’s hard for me to be around women, or anyone for that matter, who hold, what I view to be, such a narrowly defined role in life. It’s why I no longer hang out with my childfree friend that eats, sleeps, and breathes all things movies and entertainment. I need more than that from my friends. I want more than that from my friends. I demand that from me as well.

Time will tell which way Lori will go. If her recent actions and words indicate anything, I suspect it will be “Woman with Kids.” But it’s Lori. She’s unpredictable. Always calm, but unpredictable. Her last blog thrilled me…selfishly, of course. But selfishly in that I-want-my-friends-to-be-happy kind of way. I was happy to see her write about finding “the sweet spot in this life of mine” (my emphasis). She’s owning her life in a way I haven’t seen her do before. I’m surprised it’s taken Matteo for her to do that, but nevertheless, I’ll be sure to thank him the next time I see him.

Next week, Lori and I are starting our Micromovement Mondays. A twist on the Tuesdays with M-Lori of sorts, but instead of playing at the beach or going to museums or having lunch (oh hells, how I miss Tuesdays with M-Lori!), we’ll be getting together once a week to make sure the PLANS we have for our lives are actually being IMPLEMENTED. In other words, we’ll be holding each other ACCOUNTABLE for steps/actions/moves we want to take toward whatever self we’re trying to create, whatever life goals we’re trying to accomplish, whatever dreams we want to reach. I’m fully aware that if done right, one’s goals, self, and dreams are always changing (and should be). Unlike Tuesdays with M-Lori, which ended with Lori’s maternity leave, Micromovement Mondays could be a life sentence.

Me. Doing this with my friend who just had her first baby. Doing this with someone still trying to decide if she’s a “Mom” or a “Woman with Kids.” I’m not sure who this is going to benefit more.

“Why aren’t there any reality shows out there that feature childfree couples or the childfree lifestyle?” I ask my husband halfway through our eight-hour drive across the desert. The heat can do that to you….make your mind wander and go places it doesn’t need to. We’re on I-15, on our way back from our spur-of-the-moment, week-long hiking trip in Utah. We had just passed through Baker, Nevada (home of the Mad Greek restaurant, where, apparently, you can get the best strawberry shake in the world), when this is where my mind wandered to.

We’re not big TV watchers. We don’t even have cable or TiVo or satellite. In fact, we only have one TV in our house. One small TV, tucked away in the corner of our bedroom. It’s got a 25-inch or 27-inch screen. But it is a color TV. And it has a remote control. So not all is lost on me.

Still, it’s pretty obvious that I couldn’t care less what constitutes a “reality” show, but it was hot (we have no air conditioning in our black pick-up truck) and dusty and we were on the ugly part of the I-15, so I went there.

We could only tick off a few reality shows that deal with life (not competition shows like American Idol or Survivor), and most of those were only on “free TV,” though we did come up with a few we’ve heard the rest of the TV-watching world talk about: Wife Swap, Super Nanny, The Bachelor, Housewives of [Some] County, The Osbournes, The Real World (are any of these still on?!). Reality shows about “life” usually are about finding love (with the implication that marriage and babies will follow) or about parenting. None are about being childfree. And I think I know why.

This is how a reality show about a childfree couple would go:

Childfree Woman (CFW): Hey, let’s take a quick trip to the ocean this weekend.

Childfree Man (CFM): I’d rather go to the desert.

CFW: No, let’s do the ocean. I remember a cute little cabin we drove by the last time we were up there that we could stay at.

CFM: But I’m in the mood for the desert.

CFW: Fine, we’ll go to the desert. But next month, we’re going to the ocean.

CFM: Sounds good to me.

Cut to commercial.

Next scene: in the kitchen.

CFM: What do you want for dinner tonight?

CFW: I’ve got a recipe for a lentil soup I’ve been wanting to try. You can put together a salad. How does that sound?

CFM: Great! Red or white wine?

CFW: White.

Cut to commercial.

Next scene: in Baker, Nevada, passing by the Mad Greek restaurant.

CFW: So, do you think they really have the best strawberry shakes in the world?

CFM: Maybe. But probably not. Do you want to try one?

CFW: I’m not a fan of strawberry shakes.

CFM: Me neither. When we get home, I’ll make you your favorite martini.

CFW: Awesome.

Cut to commercial.

See the problem here? There IS no problem. No drama, no outbursts, no one on the verge of imploding or exploding. No one with a broken heart. No messy break ups or dirty diapers. No tears, no fits, no scorned single women or lazy dads. Not even a bad strawberry shake. A reality show about childfree couples wouldn’t work because it would be about happiness. And who wants to be reminded of that?

Now, I’m not saying we childfree folks don’t have our issues. But we certainly don’t have issues that make for dramatic TV. At least nothing advertisers would want to invest in.

At a conference this week in Sydney, Australia, Harvard University psychology professor, Daniel Gilbert, said that the trifecta of marriage, money, and children that is generally considered to be the cornerstone of happiness, really isn’t. In fact, scientific and economic research has shown that only marriage proved to be a constant source of joy, with money not making much of a difference, and children actually decreasing happiness.

“The more kids you had, the sadder you were likely to be,” Prof. Gilbert said.

An article about the conference went on to report:

U.S. and European studies have shown that people’s happiness did spike while they were expecting a baby but sharply plummeted after the child was born. The low point came when children reached the ages of 12-16, and recovered only when they had flown the coop, [Prof. Gilbert] said.

Well, that just cracked me up. Not in a taunting, ha-ha-ha kind of way, but in a “so I’m really NOT crazy” kind of way. For months now, I’ve been telling my husband I half expect to wake up from a coma and have the doctors tell me it was all a dream…this amazing life I had been living with an amazing man and all these amazing experiences were part of an alternate reality that existed because a stupid accident left me in a coma. And why would I think that? Because all that is on TV, reality or otherwise, is anything but that kind of life. Anything but happiness. Anything but people living a happy life that they wanted and worked for and got. Sans kids.

Is that really so hard to believe? I don’t think so. It’s MY reality, after all. It may not make for good TV, but it makes for great living.

Emmett and I are taking a spur-of-the-moment, week-long trip tomorrow. We’ll be heading out to Utah to explore Zion, Bryce Canyon, and other nearby national parks. A week of hiking and star gazing with some canyoneering and kayaking tossed into the mix too. I can’t wait. I really can’t wait. A trip like this—last minute and for a week—is one of the big benefits of being childfree (especially because we just got back from our New Orleans anniversary trip just two weeks ago). Even Emmett’s boss said so when Emmett told him he’ll be taking time off. “Oh, man. That’s one of the advantages of not having kids,” he said. “I’d love to take a week-long trip, especially there. But the kids have school and softball and stuff. Maybe we’ll go in June.” Yeah, go in June…when everyone else is there with their kids.

I hadn’t planned a last-minute trip of this scale in a long time. For the past year, Emmett’s work has been non-stop and if we do get time off, it’s for a quick three- or four-day getaway. I can plan that sort of thing in a drunken stupor and not miss a detail. But a weeklong super adventure to a place we’ve been dying to discover…well, that requires a little more effort and a lot less booze. So when I got the official “go ahead” from Emmett a few days ago, I put the bottle of wine (or was it vodka?) down and got to work.

One of the first things I did (besides immediately booking our regular house/cat sitter) was look for a place to stay. For the past couple of years, Emmett and I have come to enjoy renting homes, rather than staying at hotels or B&Bs. And for a trip of this length and type, it made sense to do so again. So I hit the Internet and went to our favorite site, VRBO.com (Vacation Rental By Owner). We’ve rented five or six places from this site with much success. Actually, with 100% success. There was no reason to doubt it wouldn’t be helpful this time. After typing in “Zion” and “Bryce Canyon,” we had dozens of places to sort through. We were set. No problem. With all those options, there was bound to be a few that would suit us just fine. My only concern would be if they would be available on such short notice.

But here’s the problem we ran into: all were three-, four-, and five-bedroom homes. In other words, they were huge. HUGE! What were the two of us going to do in even the “smallest” three-bedroom home? And most came with extra rooms like dens or a full basement. Many had “amenities” like Wii, plasma-screen TVs (more than one in a house!), 100 DVDs, pool tables and ping-pong tables, and more. It was crazy. Who lives like this, I thought. Who can really occupy this much space and have this much stuff? As a child, I grew up in a 1100-square foot rambler. There were four of us living there with two TVs (if you call the 15-inch box in the kitchen a TV)…and I don’t ever recall running into anyone or feeling like the walls were closing in on me. I fully realize I grew up not-so-wealthy. We were on the poorer side of lower-middle class (think powdered milk), but I didn’t really know it. There was always food on the table, a roof over my head, and my own bike (bought at a garage sale, of course) on which to ride around the neighborhood.

In the past couple of years we’ve been renting vacation homes, this had never happened before. We were always able to find at least a handful of one- or two-bedroom homes from which to choose. It was never an issue. But out in Utah (and I suspect in other parts of our great nation), where home development is recent (most of the homes had been built in the last five years), they don’t build modest homes anymore. Or, more likely, “modest” has been redefined.

So we ended up renting a very large (at least it feels that way to me) three-bedroom, three-floor home. I actually negotiated a lower fee since I told the owner it was only my husband and me, that we wouldn’t even step foot on the other two floors, and we would use very little resources (water, electricity, etc.) compared to someone who would use the entire house. She agreed and gave us our discount. Whew. Now, let’s pour ourselves a glass of wine to celebrate.

A few days later, I picked up the LA Weekly and read an article about California’s effort to reduce greenhouse-gas emissions by pushing what is called “smart growth”—ending suburban sprawl (and the rampant paving over of green space) by encouraging cities to turn to dense urban housing (maximizing the all ready paved over green space). I thought about all those newer homes out there in Utah—in the middle of nowhere really—and how much space, green and otherwise, they took up. Not just necessary space, but extra space. Which was then filled with stuff. And extra stuff. But what really caught my attention, and ultimately lead me to save the article, was a comment by an atmospheric scientist from the University of Maryland, who, when asked if “smart growth” was a solution, said, “Contemporary global warming is a result of overpopulation. This is politically incorrect truth.”

Overpopulation.

I’ve always said, when asked why I don’t want to have kids, that I choose to be childfree simply because I want to be. And that’s the truth. I’ve never shrouded my choice in morally superior rationales like political and social failings of society or being kinder on the environment, though I have met childfree couples who have. And that may be their truth. The fact of the matter is I live my life simply. I don’t require much. It’s me and my husband and a cat. We live in a 900-square foot house with one TV. We own the complete series (7 seasons!) of the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD and a VHS tape of Woody Allan’s Manhattan Murder Mystery (yes, we still own a VCR). And aside from my addiction to notecards and art and my husband’s affection for vinyl (as in LPs and 45s), we don’t collect or own much else in large numbers. Would this be possible if I had kids? Perhaps. I seem to have survived a childhood under similar minimalist conditions so obviously it’s possible. But it doesn’t seem to happen these days. At least they aren’t building houses for such a lifestyle. And today’s kids seem to have more and more stuff. I question whether overpopulation really is the problem, or if it’s overconsumption. Maybe it’s six of one and half dozen of the other.

Our pick-up truck (a small, two-door, two-seater) sits packed up and ready for our early departure tomorrow. It is full. We’ve got our hiking poles, camping chairs, rain gear, and suitcases in it. But all that doesn’t take up as much space as the food and booze we’re bringing—five bags of groceries, two coolers, seven bottles of red wine and three white, Powers, vodka, and gin.

We may have to use one of those extra rooms after all.

Our Whatever Wednesdays assignments continue to surprise, and delight, me. When Lori and I toss around ideas for it, and eventually agree upon an “assignment,” it doesn’t always seem like something worth while. Sometimes I even catch myself saying, “I’m not sure I get the point of this.” But in the end, whether we’ve featured a guest writer or done our own project, I always end up pleasantly discovering something…about me, about Lori, or about The Decision. I know that’s the whole point of Dually Noted, but sometimes I’m amazed that it’s actually working.

This past Whatever Wednesdays wasn’t any different. What took me be surprise is that both Lori and I found it somewhat of a challenge to envision each other in lives different from the path we’ve chosen. What that says to me is that we’re obviously happy and comfortable with the directions our lives are heading, and it shows. We’re doing the right thing for us. And that’s awesome, because that’s not always the case with some people. I’m sure we all know someone who is so desperate to have a baby that it’s painful (and quite frankly, icky) to be around them. Or we’ve agonizingly watched a parent ignore their child, clearly more interested in themselves than the life they brought into the world. But for Lori and me, it appears, at least from an outsider’s perspective, we’ve not only embraced our lifestyle choices, but we walk with ease and confidence through our journey, content, and even proud, of who we are: childfree and a mother.

I do sort of feel bad that the assignment may have been harder for Lori than for me. After all, having to envision me with kids truly is a stretch of the imagination. I, myself, don’t remember a time where I considered, or tried to imagine, raising children. I’m sure there was, at some point. There had to be, simply because I know I don’t want to. Therefore, it would logically follow that in order to come to that conclusion, in order to make such a decision, I had to have thought at least once about having kids. If I did, I don’t remember it. Of course, I don’t remember being born either, but here I am. So it must have happened. Nature’s funny that way. Significant and vital moments in your life and some of them you can’t remember taking place. But it doesn’t lessen their importance any. Sometimes, you just know.

And I know that Lori is right about me: if I were to have kids, I’d likely be living back in Minnesota where they would be close to their cousins and grandparents. Yes, I’d probably have them involved in some sort of save-the-environment, save-the-wolf, and spade/neuter-your-pet causes and get the other moms organized and engaged too. And yes, Lori, I would raise them vegetarian.

Of course, I haven’t given it much thought. But off the top of my head, that feels right. Sometimes, you just know.

So what have you been doing for the last 17 years?

Seriously, think about it. Think about all those months and days and people and places and events that have passed through your life. Think about the world and all that’s changed in that amount of time. Think about who you were then and who you are now. Seventeen years seems like a long time, doesn’t it? It does to me. It seems like forever ago. Yet, tomorrow, Emmett and I are celebrating 17 years together. Seventeen years ago we became a couple.

And it seems like yesterday.

Emmett is the love of my life. Love. Of. My. Life. I’m only 37 so that might not mean as much as it would if I were 97, but you get the point. This man means the world to me. He’s brilliant and kind and funny and tender and peaceful and strong and fascinating. He is music. He is nature. He is color. He is him. And I can’t get enough. Every day I look forward to waking up because I know he’s going to be a part of my day. When I’m around him, I feel lucky and happy. When I’m around him, I am a better person.

Seventeen years ago, when Emmett and I found a little spot on a hill away from the party we were at and the people that were there, we talked about many things, for hours (until 5 a.m., if I’m not mistaken), none of which I can remember now except for this: telling him I didn’t want to have children and him saying the same thing to me. Now that’s not the only reason I started dating, and eventually married, the man (his perfect nose, lovely butt, and warm hands sucked me in too). But it is one of the primary ones. For me, having kids wasn’t something that was up for discussion. It was nonnegotiable. And Emmett was cool with that. More than cool, actually. He was adamant about remaining childfree too.

Usually when people find out that Emmett and I choose not to have kids, they seem confused. Really confused. I assume it’s because they see the two of us and how well we are with each other and can’t believe that a couple that appears so together wouldn’t want to have children together. Yes, yes, yes…of all the people in the world to have kids, as we’ve been told a million times, it “should” be us—smart, driven, healthy, stable. A good breed, so to speak. But for Emmett and me, that’s not the point. We didn’t come together to procreate. We became a couple to create us.

We are with each other because we are so much that we love in life, that we love about life, that we love doing in life. It doesn’t get more alive than our relationship. We gave birth to the couple we have become. We’ve nurtured it, fed it, schooled it, shaped it, listened to it, bonded with it, and loved it. We’ve watched it grow into what it is today—a love freely given and freely received. Nothing obligates us to the relationship. Not money nor power nor fear of change. It depends on nothing. Individually, we are capable and strong. We can find our way in the world just fine. But together we tingle. And the world vibrates along with us.

And that’s why I am with the man I am. You see, I can have a baby and love it regardless of who the father is. Heck, these days you don’t even have to know who the father is. But I can’t love a man regardless of who that man is. At least not if I love my own self as well. And I do. So I’m with someone who knows that this is all he’s getting: us. And the life we create.

Tomorrow will be 17 years worth of yesterdays. They happened so easily. They really did. They slid in and slipped out and then the next one came followed by yet another. It wasn’t as if they weren’t memorable. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I can’t get them out of my mind.

Which is why it all seems like yesterday.

I’m supposed to be in collage class right now, but it got cancelled. Not just today’s class but the entire session. There were four students that signed up for the class at the Armory Center for the Arts but the Center said they need at least six people in order to run the class. I told them with my split personality, we made for a total of five and asked if that was close enough. The woman in the admissions office said no. She actually said, “No.” I was tempted to offer her one of my personalities, but I think the gesture would have been lost on her.

Regardless, the one class that was held last week was awesome and I’m glad for the experience. Our teacher was even French…who better to teach collage than a French person? It would have been so cool. (Insert long, sad sigh here.) The other women in the class were what Lori calls SAHMs (Stay At Home Mom). She warned me that would happen. But I didn’t really need it. If there was any part of “art class,” “mid-morning,” and “mid-week” that made me think the students would be anything but SAHMs, then I really do need to get my head checked. Besides, I’m fully aware that there aren’t a lot of us childfree, proactively unemployed ladies running around LA. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I’m sort of unique that way. I’m either with a bunch of retirees or with SAHMs. I have nothing against hanging out with either. It just gets lonely. Sometimes you crave your peeps…the ones who understand you without you having to explain anything.

But every once-in-a-while, you run into someone not like you who does get you. Sometimes, there’s a connection made from the slightest exchange, the smallest of interactions. It might be a look. It might be a word. It might be in the way you smiled or didn’t smile. Whatever it is, they understand where you’re coming from.

One of the women in the collage class, Gracie, was a SAHM with two girls, ages four and one. When she asked me if I had any kids and I told her I was childfree, she reacted in a way I had never seen before. She looked at me with the most sincere eyes and thoughtfully said, “Oh, I would love to be childfree if I could still be a mom.” Childfree and a mom. In that single, short statement she acknowledged the beauty of both worlds. The way she said it, the way she approached her response, wasn’t about wanting to escape the consequences of either choice. No, it was more nonjudgmental than that. It was about merging what she liked best about both lifestyles. It was a desire to have her all to herself and yet still give all of herself to her daughters.

It was a breath of fresh air. Usually after revealing that I choose a childfree life, people get all weird and one of two things happen: they get pissed, like somehow they missed the memo that said it was okay not to have kids, and now that they’ve gone ahead and done it, they feel stupid and I’m the asshole for pointing it out; OR they get pathetic and assume something bad has happened in the past that prevents me from having children in the future—a medical condition, an abusive mother, a bad family friend with wandering eyes and hands to match. But Gracie’s reaction was…lovely. She recalled with ease what’s at the heart of being childfree and she did so without getting jealous, being frustrated, or projecting pity. Gracie and I come from two different worlds and yet at that moment, where our paths crossed, we saw, and felt, the same thing, despite standing on different ground. 

After collage class that day, I had happy hour with a group of women I adore. All are childfree. My peeps. We hadn’t seen each other in several months so there was a lot to catch up on. I don’t recall a moment void of chatter, laughter, and silliness. But somewhere between the toasts and the wise cracks and the impromptu singing, I thought about Gracie, at home, with her daughters. And I smiled.

I DID IT! I completed an entire week of life without Lori! Not that I thought I wouldn’t, but it went much more smoothly than I expected, which is quite inspiring.

For those who read Lori’s post yesterday, you’ll get what just happened. For those who haven’t, I’ll clue you in: those were the first two lines of her blog entry, with a few modifications on my part. Yes, I’m trying to be silly. But I’m also trying to make a point—I enjoyed Tuesdays with M-Lori so much, I actually experienced withdrawal when they had to stop.

And to further prove my point, I think I sort of panicked a bit at the idea of not getting my usual once-a-week, out-and-about fix that I overbooked myself this week. Monday I had a long lunch with my brother-in-law. Tuesday I had my first class at the Armory Center for the Arts and then Happy Hour later in the evening with four of my super fun girlfriends (all childfree!). Wednesday I spent half the day with my neighbor Raynee and her friend Sonya walking the Huntington Gardens and going out for a late breakfast. Thursday I went hiking with my girl Jackie. Tonight, Emmett and I are having dinner with friends. Saturday we’re taking in a show at Royce Hall. And Sunday we’re hiking in the morning and catching a friend’s gallery opening in the evening. In these past seven days, not a single one was all to myself, which is unusual since I need those “just-for-me” days to keep my creative work moving forward. I’m not usually a fill-up-the-day (or week) kind of person so when I realized what I had done, the only explanation I could come up with is that it had to have been a subconscious, knee-jerk reaction to the end of Tuesdays with M-Lori.

But then along came our Whatever Wednesdays assignment: post pictures that represent our past, present, and future and provide a short explanation as to what the pictures mean to us. After seeing what pictures Lori chose and reading her write ups and then looking at my pictures and write ups, it shouldn’t surprise me that my week was filled. And filled with what it was filled with. My pictures capture the boundlessness of my life, the untethered possibilities and opportunities that are available to me on demand as well as spontaneously because I have no one to worry about but myself. Yes, because I am childfree. My life is filled with people (close encounters, deep relationships, light acquaintances, familial, and in passing), shifting tides (school, college, career, entrepreneur, artist), and swirling eddies (reading, hiking, writing, traveling, cooking, etc.) that do indeed fill not just my time but my spirit as well. Lori’s pictures represent a world that is becoming more narrowly defined. It fills her time and her spirit as well, but it’s more specific. More focused. Her pictures are snapshots of an exact moment in time. Her in Cabo. Her on the beach with her husband and son. Her father and son. Mine could be taken anywhere, anytime, by anyone. Wow! What an amazing difference…and what an amazing experience to realize that difference.

I was worried after posting my Whatever Wednesdays assignment that it was too clichéd (and I still think that) but I also realize that I am a cliché…a childfree cliché. My pictures and Lori’s pictures couldn’t be more opposite, which seems appropriate being that our lives are opposite (in the childfree/not childfree way). Lori’s right when she says she wouldn’t want my life and I wouldn’t want hers. In other words, we’re living the lives we want to live. “The way we want it,” as Lori said. Something I not sure all women do, unfortunately. I have friends who don’t have children who wished they did. I know women who have children who wished they didn’t. Somehow, Lori and I figured out how to get what we want from life. Maybe that’s another reason why we became, and stay, friends.

And while I celebrate our differences (cliché, I know), I can’t help but also acknowledge that I felt a bit perplexed when I looked at Lori’s future picture. For the Lori I know, it seems a bit finite: the death of her father, the growing up of her son. Where does that leave Lori—“the link,” as she calls it—afterwards? Or even during? To me, that picture feels like she’s worked to get where she is today and now she’s waiting…waiting to be released from the two ends she’s connected to in order to think about the next step. The idea of herself, in the meantime, is on hold. Or maybe it’s only just begun. My husband’s aunt once said she knows there’s an afterlife because not even death could stop her from worrying about her children. Once a mother, always a mother. Based on Lori’s pictures, perhaps it is a good thing Lori chose to have children

I’m not even going to imagine what my future picture must look like to Lori. I realize now that none of my pictures includes people. They are there, behind the scenes, but not in front. What does that say about me? I’m sure thousands of dollars of therapy couldn’t provide as much insight into that than Lori could herself. Or my husband. All I’m going to say is that perhaps it is a good thing I chose to be childfree.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I’ll let our photos stand for what they are. Past, present, and future, Lori and I are who we are. We are our choices.