Natasha Leggero - The World Deserves My Children

Natasha Leggero

By Far the Funniest Book Ive Ever Read About Parenting. Chelsea Handler

The World Deserves My Children

To my mother, my children, and my childrens children

INTRODUCTION

I love throwing parties. There isnt an event that I dont think of as an excuse for a party. That might be the one thing I like most about Judaism, i.e., the religion my husband forced me to convert to. Jews have a party where we drink wine, eat bread, and your husband blesses you EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT! (Ive always wanted to be blessed weekly.)

Ive thrown every kind of partyfrom a dogs baptism to my own yard weddingso naturally, on the eve of the first woman being elected president, my husband and I agreed we had to throw an epic election (coronation?) party.

Inspired by a trend in Paris of turning public pools into floating movie houses, I rented a huge TV, wheeled it out by my pool, shoveled a bunch of greenhouse gas into the furnace, turned the water up to 101F, got tons of giant pink inflatable swans that I begged my brother to blow up for me, and had the party catered with my favorite Mexican food. Get it? Mexican food? Trump? Ha-ha?

Like every other liberal idiot I share a bubble with, I knew Hillary was going to win. The day whats-his-name was caught on tape saying that he grabs women by the pussy, I actually got annoyed that Hillarys campaign was STILL emailing me asking for money. Enough, bitch, I think ya got this.

The sound was off on the TV as a bunch of comedians floated in the pool-sized hot tub. Id made an awesome playlist with inspirational classics like The Times They Are A-Changin and We Are the Champions. As we lay on the inflatable pool toys, smugly basking in certain victory with our margaritas and mini burritos, the mood started to shift from ironic whimsy to intense dread.

With Lou Reeds Perfect Day blaring from the speakers, we noticed Trump had won another state. There was less splashing from the pool. Adorable little burritos started to turn cold. An inner tube shaped like a flamingo frowned.

I decided to get out of the tub, turn down the music, and start asking my smartest, most politically savvy friends what the hell was happening. I was hoping for a Dont worry, its about to turn around! What I got was an If Trump wins Michigan, theres no way he wont win the election. I looked up at the giant screen looming over the chimichanga bar. He won Michigan. The splashing stopped. The margarita machine froze in terror. The flamingo looked like he was going to be sick.

A chill swept over the party. There was silence, which is rarer in a group of comedians than a happy childhood. We were all in shock. Our bubble had been popped. Bewildered and soaking wet, people started getting out of the pool looking for towels. As I waved goodbye to my guests with an air of Yes, this was a bummer but we will all figure it out tomorrow! (as I said, Im a good host), I started picking up unused party horns and poppers that were lying on the tables and thought, Maybe I wont have a kid.

I froze my eggs on a whim when I was thirty-eight and I didnt really think I would use them. I didnt even have a boyfriend at the time. I wasnt exactly maternal. I truly believed my classic joke: Having a baby is like a DUI from the universe.

But still, I had some extra money and thought maybe one day I might want a kid, in the same way I thought I might eventually want an infinity hot tub. (I have one of those on ice too.)

I could definitely live without one, but I thought it might be cute to have a little sidekick to take to the spa and play piano with and who would join me in my Pinot and Painting classes on Wednesdays. Together we would reenact scenes from impressionist masters: mother and daughter rowing in a boat, brushing each others hair, her lovingly emptying my bedpan and topping off my Chteau Margaux whenever I got parched.

Every time I thought about it, though, having a kid just seemed like a lot of work. Not to mention its expensive, majorly cuts into your leisure time, derails your career accomplishments, and destroys your romance with your partner. And despite all these sacrifices, it could still grow up and do makeup tutorials on TikTok.

I also worried that in my future kids lifetime, it would most likely experience coastal change, increased wildfires, plagues and pandemics, lack of resources due to overpopulation, nuclear war, and, maybe worst of all, more reality-show presidents. How could I bring a child into a world where it would almost certainly one day hear a candidate for president say, America, will you accept this rose?

Was it conscionable to have a child when it will just create more pollution in an already pretty full earth that, oh yeah, just happens to be on fire?

I decided that it was. Why should I feel guilty for procreating? Even in the most tragic of times, people were having kids. World War II was the worst catastrophe in modern history, but two weeks after it ended, people were fucking so much that they gave birth to an entire generation of people who are now ruining the world. OK boomer?

The truth is, no matter how bad the world is, people will still be getting married, they will still be having kids, those kids will still be annoying, and there will always be husbands who are completely unhelpful and grandparents who are too frail to watch your kids. You may have to swab your nannys larynx for viral shedding before she comes to work, but the cycle of life will not stop.

When I decided to thaw my eggs and crack them over the cast-iron griddle of my uterus, I had a husband, a house, and a career, and knew just from gut feeling which parties to attend and which to skip. How unfair would it be if I kept those little frozen potential Leggeros from attending the party that is my life? I decided to become a mom when I was in my prime, but when the world most certainly was not.

Thats what this book is about, waiting just long enough to have a child so that you are stable and ready for whatever parenthood throws at you, but not so long that you have to give birth in an underground city where oxygen is piped in from the surface and your children think piles of dirt are trees. And if you do wait too long? Dont stress! Youre literally creating a bunker mate to hang out with you and to eat rehydrated beans with. Who wants to do that alone?

If youre on the fence about the state of the world or your own readiness to raise a child and give up your freedom, do what I did: face the most monumental decision youll ever make and say, Hey, fuck it, why not? In fact, Why Not is the name of my sweet, sweet daughter.

1. . Thats a lie.

SO, WHATS IT LIKE BEING A MOTHER?

Women are troublesome cattle to deal with mostly.

SAMUEL LOVER, HANDY ANDY (1842)

Woman is not intended for great mental or for great physical labour. She expiates the guilt of life not through activity but through suffering, through the pains of childbirth, caring for the child and subjection to the man, to whom she should be a patient and cheering companion.