The Continuation Of The Human Race

This is a guest post I wrote for Taming Insanity (found here http://www.taminginsanity.com/) yesterday, but I figured I should also include it on my own site. Otters like things to be kept in small neat bundles, where we can keep an eye on them. Imagine the horror if one of my posts was caught fondling one of her posts. The scandal! We'd never hear the end of it. And with that in mind, please enjoy....


Oh, babies. If they were being marketed, the tag would say something like "People, made by people" or perhaps "Too much time on your hands? Oversleeping? Try our new BABY range!" Perhaps that's just how I've seen them for most of my life - as a wailing, screaming, weeing-in-the-supermarket-aisle majority, rather than the adorable burbling minority who undoubtedly never throw soft foods and instead settle for grinning happily at old ladies on the bus - but as I get older, my views are changing somewhat.

My internetfriend Taming Insanity asked (begged, really, and you know I can't resist anyone who makes sad puppy eyes) her fellow bloggers to help her out as she's going to be too busy to post much, what with being heavily pregnant and all. I'm personally grateful - she's populating the planet so I don't have to. Thanks for taking one for the team, bro.

It's not that I don't want to have kids, necessarily - I do like children and am surprisingly good with them (possibly because they think I am one of them and are, in a manner similar to wolves, more inclined to accept me as part of the pack) but I feel like I need a couple of things to happen first. I need to find a woman with child-bearing hips (because I'm shaped like Justin Bieber, if Justin Bieber had an awesome rack and slightly more feminine eyebrows) to birth my litter. I need to give up most of the fun but dangerous stuff I like doing now. And I need to have an actual career instead of a job, preferably involving blogging, otter-related banter or being Laura Dern's wardrobe fitter.

This brings me very briefly to something I saw recently in the local newspaper about Sarah Jessica Parker's new film, probably called I Can't Act But I'm Inexplicably Cast In These Roles Anyway, but I digress. Her character in this film is touted as being a "hard working mother who juggles her lovable kids, her architect husband and her own well-paid investment job". I'll be honest. I was confused. Firstly, quite a lot of people manage to have kids, a partner and a job. Surely there is more to the plot than that? Of course, I'm not fool enough to try to answer that question by actually parting with my money or giving up two precious hours of my life for such drivel, but all the same I'd like to know what happens. Secondly, why is SHE the only one juggling these things? Presumably her husband is also juggling the same amount of pressure - although I hear being an architect is an super easy job, with minimum effort required - unless he's a mostly absent father figure (in which case, she won't need to juggle any part of him, which should at least cut down on her stressful schedule).

In any case, the mention of this Future Baby made me wonder how different its life will be from mine, with a grand total of 26 years between us. He or she will grow up with the internet an as accepted tool of communciation. I didn't start using the internet until I was at high school, which means that I grew up in a time where you generally had to go to a library if you wanted to educate yourself on a specific topic. He or she will grow up with completely different childhood television - missing out on such classics as 'Rainbow', 'Button Moon', 'Fraggle Rock', 'Count Duckula' and so much more. God, how I love Count Duckula. In a platonic way, you know. He's not, like, the Count from 'Sesame Street' or anything, who I've always maintained has a slightly sexy edge to him. It might be the cape, the accent or the casual OCD he displays. Memo to those attempting to date an otter - owning a cape will assist you greatly in the wooing process.

This is all serving to make me feel rather old, and has the odd twin effect of reminding me I haven't done anything stupid lately. (Hmm. I have a pack of napkins, a tub of Golden Syrup and a box of matches in my cupboard. Let's see how inventive I can be) It's a toast to you, Future Baby. Hopefully by the time you're my age, science will have stopped dicking about with medicine and started working on better hoverboards. We can but hope.