The inspiration for this section came from a very good friend of mine who, now in his mid-30s, is very adamantly avoiding this whole thing known as parenting. Recently he and I were catching up and having this conversation about how Rose was doing. During our discussion he said something that got me thinking about the parenting experience and why parents invariably advocate for the having (as opposed to the "halving") of offspring. My friend, whom I will call "Bud", had been listening patiently as I went on about how well she was doing and how smart she was getting. Bud himself has been married for a number of years but as of yet, no kids. He continued to listen a few minutes longer to my banter, but could contain himself no longer and asked me if I, too, had joined the Secret Society.

"Huh? Secret Society"?

"Yeah, you know, you parents must all get together in some secret meeting and compare notes about how to assimilate the rest of us into your world of diapers, crying and no social life whatsoever".

Photo courtesy of Mel Woods

Well, that shut me right up. At least for about ten seconds before I seamlessly transitioned into the fact that she was now eating with her own spoon. But you know, I actually had it coming. I myself remember the sleep-laden pre-parent lifestyle, in which all I could see in children was the mucous. And I remember being subjected to more than one unsolicited rant about someone's perfect little kid. I think about those maddening bumper stickers that insist that the driver's Honor Student/Child of the Week is somehow beyond the mortal reach of the rest of us, even while the speed of their vehicle seems wholly inadequate. Or about the fury-generating "Baby on Board" signs from the 80's that must have been in ten-million cars simultaneously during their peak (was I somehow supposed to be EXTRA careful when tailgating them?). No joke, I'd have paid good money to possess some Department of Transportation statistics to confirm what I already knew: that these signs, purposefully designed in the shape of a road-hazard caution, served absolutely no purpose other than satiating the vanity of the soon-to-be soccer mom or dad. What's more, it made me all the more insane to know that the drivers were quite oblivious about the REAL message they were sending: that they were clearly the superior, indeed the Anointed Ones, and that We, the Childless, should abandon our reckless ways, at least until their enlightened vehicle left the vicinity. 

But was that really their message? Not until recently did I consider that it was something a little more subtle and vastly more important.

I find myself now in this strange transitional realm between two worlds. On the one hand, I remember vividly the old life where the idea of having a kid sounded downright pathological. Money was forever tight and there were too many freedoms and liberties I was just not willing to sacrifice. My reticence wasn't merely self-indulgent, though. Contributing to the population explosion problem wasn't my idea of being a socially-minded citizen, nor was the idea of subjecting another soul to the injustices and cruelties of the world, exemplified by current affairs in the Middle East. And also closer to home, reflecting upon my memories of the agony and ferocity of adolescence: that inescapable introduction to the pain and struggle of being different, of seeing greener grass in everyone's pasture but my own. Having endured those terrible teens, why would I want to subject someone else to them, not to mention the countless other unpleasantries of the world?

On the other hand, something is awakening in my brain that deems my former kid-wary arguments irrelevant, or at least, somewhat limited, with the luxury of hindsight. The point, I suppose, is that for the first time I get a chance to relive the experiences through the eyes of another. Perhaps, just perhaps, I can be the voice I sometimes wished had been there for me, to provide a kind of context and awareness that might make it all right and even a little exciting to endure life's more painful turns. Might this help me mend my own dumb mistakes of youth? Or maybe, maybe there's a larger reason why I should be sleeping less and planning more. Perhaps there's something profoundly important in my work now because I will be leaving behind a tangible reverberation of my own self when I'm gone. And who knows? There may just be a thing or two that my lil snot-nose can teach me. I might just learn a whole lot about being present and in-the-moment if I actually slow down enough to observe some of life's greatest and most mysterious magic unfold, right in front of my eyes. At any rate, my rearview mirror confirms it: now I'm the one driving the speed limit and pissing off the drivers behind me.

So the answer to your question, Bud, is yes, I'm a card-carrying member of the Secret Society of Parenthood. I've been assimilated and am now a foot-soldier on the front-line of Secret Society Propagandists.  Now, we generally don't like to have the attention turned to us, but you deserve to know the truth of the matter.  We have our own currency.  There IS a secret handshake.  And we hold our covert meetings to further our agendas at public and private places alike.  And somewhere, in some underground warehouse, we keep stockpiles of Baby on Board signs awaiting a new assault on an unsuspecting younger generation.

This space is hereby dedicated to all you fellow Secret Society members and for you, the strong-stomached non-members who are curious about life on the "inside". If you would like to see photos and vids of Rose as she continues to school her old man, check out her blog at http://roseclaire.blogspot.com/.  And just remember, Bud, we know where you live. And you're in our database.