Should we have kids?

As I meet with friends along with my filthy, cacophonous parasites - my kids, I am sometimes asked, "Should we have kids?" I don't weigh the merits or detriments to my decision to have kids daily, but I would say that it is a recurring, weekly thought.  The answer for me, now, is like a ship at sea.

The ship is a marriage, or lasting relationship. You've gone ahead, prepared, and stocked, and now you're a ship at sea.  You're a ship at sea, but where are you going? Nowhere.  Anywhere.  You know...

So now, you figure, "This voyage needs a purpose," and you create a purpose by bringing a child into the world.   So, your child arrives and you quickly realize that this child is a massive leak in your boat.  That is what a child in your life is: a massive leak on your boat.  You had a perfectly good ship, and in your ambition to do more, you're taking on water.

As this realization sinks in, and you get better at keeping the boat above water, besides the never-ending leak, (ie. child), you begin to feel confident, and think, "We already know how to handle a leak, let's have a second one."  Why not?  If you already have one, you really should have two."

Well, this second one is not a simple compound to your existing leak.  This is a scenario from Joseph Conrad's short story, Youth.  The boat is leaking, but when the second one comes along, it's not another leak.  The massive load of coal that you have quietly forgotten in the holds blows sky-high.  That's your second kid.  First you were stressed trying to keep the water out, now you're pumping it back in again to put out the never-ending fire that the explosion of the second child caused.  Now, you pump water in, put out the fire, pump water out, pump water in, put out the fire, pump water out, incessantly. Unlike Conrad's story, there are no dinghies to escape in, and you are out to sea, pumping and dousing, and pumping or perish. 

I am this wretched sailor now, and the way I find strength to continue the futility is to understand that if I half-ass my job now, in this very real, metaphorical situation, it could get worse, it could change, but surely isn't getting better.

That is what I do now.  I put all my emotion and energy into this redundant cycle.  I work through this impossible situation, mindful that if I am aware, keeping an eye and ear out for all permeations of this catastrophe, I might be able to build a structure upon which to land a happy group of people.

Currently there is a lot of sailor-talk and calamity on my part, and I try to limit that, but I am head-to-toe with salt, sweat and soot, and that's just the metaphor!  The reality of what I'm head-to-toe with is more varied and worse.  So, I'm weary, dirty and ignited, but I have hope and a heading.

The question, "Should we have kids?" is actually wondering if you want to take a slow sail through nothing, or take a long, long sail through utter chaos.  Either choice has its benefits; both choices will crush a part of your soul.  The real question in the end is; "Now that I have attached myself to this person for the rest of my life, how am I going to survive humanity?"