This has been one heck of a week for me. My first ever post as a Huffington Post blogger went up on Tuesday, in the parenting blog section, and then today, another post was featured on Huffington Post Women. Busy, busy week!
I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting what happened.
Now, granted, I know not everyone is ‘into’ large families. But the comments? Hoooo boy.
Basically, they were divided up into three categories: those who have large families, those who don’t, but are of a ‘live and let live’ mindset, and those that are vehemently, even angrily against large families.
The last group threw me for a loop.
I never knew that folks could be so angry over someone else’s reproductive choices. I always considered family size a personal thing, but, I was firmly told, it’s not.
Silly me. I thought it was something that was between Wolf and I.
Apparently, having a large family makes me responsible for the destruction of the planet. I’m leaving (carbon) footprints that Paul Bunyan couldn’t match. Forget Chernobyl, nuclear warfare, global pandemics, germ warfare, tsunamis, earth quakes and hurricanes, large families are going to kill the Earth!
I always said I wanted to take over the world, Pinky…but destroy it? Eh, toh-may-to, toh-mah-to I guess.
“Honey, ” I yelled to Wolf excitedly, “Our crotch fruit are going to destroy the world!”
Frankly, you’d thought he’d be a little more excited. Or at least surprised.
At least large families can’t be blamed for the extinction of the dinosaurs, right? RIGHT?!
I mean, I’ve heard, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” but my UTERUS?!
But, in talking with Wolf, I realized…the power.
I HAVE THE POWER!
Screw He-Man…I HAVE A UTERUS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!
So, I did what any sarcastic, snarky person would do.
I made a t-shirt. For any woman who has, or may plan to have, more than the ‘approved’ number of children. (That’s two, by the way, according to the commenters)
And mugs, and other stuff.
I have to admit, one of my favourite comments was someone demanding to know why my DNA is so special that I had to reproduce so much.
And, well, I’ll be honest here:
My DNA isn’t special at all. Wolf, however, was sent here from a dying planet. When he was an infant, his parents stuffed him in a crystal spaceship, and sent him to Earth.
But we’re not suppose to talk about that. Shhhh!!
What’s it say when folks are more interested in my uterine productions than in a woman being abused?
Nothing good, I suspect.