Being a full-time student is tough. In order to be successful students, we have to struggle through quizzes, papers and tests — not to mention struggling to stay attentive and lucid during those early morning classes.
Speaking of morning classes: someone needs to take care of that. Making time for these early morning shenanigans is exhausting. Someone should definitely start a petition banning classes before noon and that last more than an hour and a half.
Handling school is difficult enough, but then take into account the barren, desert-like wasteland that is the inside of our wallets — courtesy of pulling hours at a minimum wage job. I cannot imagine taking anything more onto my plate, but I know that a lot of students do. This addition to other’s schedules is children.
Children are life’s little bundles of love, joy and putrid smells.
Even though I know that children are a blessing, I am positive that I am in no way prepared to have one of my own for the following reasons.
I am inexcusably broke: I am so broke that I’m pretty sure that the homeless man who holds the sign that says “WHY LIE? I NEED A BEER” has more money than I do. Children are so incredibly expensive that I feel like I needed to start saving for my future child’s college fund yesterday.
They are always covered in something they shouldn’t be: Kids are little money-grubbing hooligans who always seem to be covered in food residue. How long has that dark brown smudge been on their cheek? What exactly is that dark smudge? These instants of the mystery smudge remind me of that scene in “Austin Powers: Goldmember” when Powers is transfixed by the mole on the agent’s face. Once you see the mole, you cannot see anything else.
My bedroom closely resembles a war zone unsuitable for small children: There are clothes and trash everywhere. I’d like to give a good explanation as to why my room is like the Bermuda Triangle — things just go missing — but I can’t. I cannot step foot on the ground without stepping on something painful, such as pens, pencils, chargers or keys. My kid would whine about cleaning their bedroom and ask, “Mom, do I have to clean my room?” I would give an apathetic and definitive, “No.”
My sleep schedule is not conducive: I love sleep. If there were an Olympic team for epic sleeping, I would bring home the gold — go, Team U.S.A. From what I understand, parenthood is a sleep sucker. Ultimately, I would just be teaching my child to sleep until 2 p.m. — and that would not be beneficial.
Science is not my strong suit: My child would enter that inquisitive phase where he has to know everything. He would ask why the sky is blue, and I would have to reference my third-grade textbook.
I currently lack the patience necessary to nurture a child: Waiting at a red light has the ability to slowly take away my will to live. Parenthood requires so much more patience than waiting at a red light.
I live on the college student diet: Either I am so busy with school and work that I do not have time to eat or I binge-eat enough food to feed a third-world country. Children need to eat a healthy and balanced diet, and I am in no way ready to start referencing the food pyramid.
Forgetfulness is my middle name: I remember small details about as well as Dory from “Finding Nemo” does. I would be the parent who forgets their child at the supermarket. I would be the parent who puts a bag of sugar into the car seat instead of the baby.
Car seats: Car seats are such a conundrum. There are all of these slots to slip the seat belt into and all of these safety buckles. It’s rather confusing. In addition, the thing being buckled in is precious cargo — a discount on a bulk bag of sugar is hard to come by. Protect the precious cargo.
I enjoy drinking (Kool-Aid): Drinking (Kool-Aid) is severely looked down upon when one is pregnant. Then once the baby is born, taking care of the baby is the top priority — not drinking that sweet beverage. Too much (Kool-Aid) is not healthy — it can lead to all kinds of health issues. I would feel guilty if I ever decided to leave the kid with a sitter for the night and go out and drink (Kool-Aid).
Despite everything that’s been said, I would love to be a parent someday — eons and eons from now. I know everything changes once the screaming, rambunctious stinkers have some of your genes, but I’m not ready to make the change now. That may sound selfish, but I don’t want to bring a child into the world when I am ill-prepared for it.
For all the parents who currently attend school, work and have a home life: I have such respect for you all. I could not do what you all do.
Continue on your quest to identify the mystery smudge, remember all the little things and figure out all the unanswered questions of the world that your child will surely ask. We’re all rooting for you.
Senior staff columnist Kelly Schafler is a print journalism junior and may be reached at [email protected]
