Having kids is the greatest thing that will ever happen in your life, releasing bucketloads of warm fuzzies into your bloodstream, enriching your soul and making you vow to treat your fellow man better … for the first month, that is.
That glowing mum so proud of the blind, wet newborn baby she’s cradling in her hospital bed? In six months, if you wake her up at 3.45am and tell her it’s her turn to get up and shoosh bubs, she will kill you. And it will be justified.
No matter how much you watch Stranger Things while gobbling smores in your Snuggie and flicking through a Viewmaster, you will never get back to that feeling before you had kids when you experienced innocent joy, had a slim body, had taut skin stretched over pointy cheekbones, shiny white teeth, dainty limbs… (sniff). You went to Big Day Outs, you fucked strangers in portaloos, you gobbled drugs, you got into fights, you never saved money. Life felt like an MGMT song.
The old, carefree you dies as soon as you produce children. You become an emotional zombie. The most ecstatic mood level you will experience some days is Average.
Now don’t get me wrong – there is ecstatic joy to be had AROUND children, but that ecstatic joy doesn’t belong to you. Even when you’re experiencing the very definition of ecstasy – that is, sucking MDMA under a heatlamp in some Viaduct nightclub – you won’t be able to shake the feeling that somewhere across the universe, across your soul, across your waves of joy in Club $kandal, somewhere a babysitter is waiting for you to get home, and the babysitter hates you.
Also, she’s probably in your bedroom, rifling through your shit.
So, after you’ve brought your little life-changer-and-I-don’t-mean-in-a-good-way home from the hospital, don’t be surprised if the soon youthful feeling of gleeful liberation is removed from the following areas of your life: eating, sex, sport, art, reading, sleep, exercise, housekeeping, personality, professional life… Look, basically you will never feel pleasure without anxiety again.