When people think about having kids, they mostly think about the nice and sweet things. Creating life with God-like power, a little one to grow up loving the same football team that you do, and someone to get you a glass of milk while you watch your stories. All valid reasons, to be sure. But they forget about the reality of the situation, the actual day-to-day that is parenting. As such, many prospective parents find that they are unworthy to be parents because they never considered the actuality of taking care of another life.
So I have devised a test because if nothing else I am a giver who takes pity on the less Hoss. If you can read the following scenario and feel you are up to what it describes, then maybe you are ready for children. If not, stick with a chia pet and a virtual family on Sims. One can die without guilt and the other can be turned off while you go watch a movie, preferably something rated R with a lot of nudity. I envy you, sir.
Let's say you are sick. Your throat hurts so bad that you wish you could suck on a fire extinguisher but you are afraid your wife will walk in and think you are some sort of sexual deviant, so you don't. You have a slight fever that you are trying to treat with a healthy dose of malice and Pop Tarts. You have no energy and when you sneeze you actually form snot bubbles. Every muscle aches and you wish that you could just hibernate until spring. You are a furry animal with ample chest hair so you are pretty sure you could pull this off.
But you can't because not only are you sick, but you have 2 kids that are also sick. One has a fever worse than you and the other one has a cough so rough that it sounds like she is speaking Klingon. By the way, it is my dream to one day teach Bubba Hoss to speak Klingon. Screw Spanish. And as they are both sick, there is only one place that they want to be, which is on you. But sick kids can't sit still and they like to spread out.
There's not enough of you to go around. So inevitably they begin playing king of the hill. The hill being your nuts which have been stomped into numbness. You are sick and can't find the energy to even yell at them. Where's the help? Oh, there's no help my friend. No one actively volunteers to help take care of sick kids. You have to trick them by telling people you have just installed a new stripper pole and would they like to see you on it. Then they get there and are all disappointed and judgmental because there is not a stripper pole, only a middle-aged fat guy with a B cup max and he has 2 two sick kids. Pretty soon people stop coming over altogether. That's why you have no help. You are a sexual deviant with no stripper pole. So it's time to suck it up.
Pretty soon you just resort to slapping wayward hands so that you get into a grade-school sissy fight with a 3 year old and her 2 year old brother. And you are losing. Of course it escalates to the point where you get a juice cup right between the eyes like some drunk William Tell with blurred vision who would blow a .81, many times the legal limit. You can't take it anymore, so you rearrange the kids.
What you come up with defies logic but raising kids is not about logic, it's about survival. The 3 year old - you lay her on the back of the chair with her head in the crook of your neck. It hurts and is not comfortable but she seems to like the change of scenery so you're good. The two year old now reigns supreme over Crushing Your Crotch Land. Things go well, for about 10 minutes. Then they find a way to fight again, meanwhile the nut stomping has switched to your bladder and you realize you have to pee. Badly.
You start to get up but somehow your pants leg has become snared in the buckle of your boot. You wear boots, preferably with steel toes, because you are a working man and a hard hat is required when raising Little Hoss. With your legs crossed, because you were trying to relax, you realize that you have somehow hobbled yourself like a lame horse. Yes, it's turned into an episode of the Twilight Zone but you would gladly welcome a gremlin to come and stop the pain. You try to free yourself because you really have to pee now. It seems to get more urgent when you can't move at all.
Right about now the 3 year old decided to play Hulk Hogan off the top rope and rain vengeance down upon her 2 year old brother. The intended target moves with surprising cat-like speed and your 3 year old's aim is off anyway. So she does not land on him, but puts that knee directly into your bladder. It takes you a moment to come to terms with the fact that you just peed yourself a little bit.
Now your sick & hobbled and shocked to discover you need Depends at the age of 35. You have 2 fighting sick kids and busted balls. You freak out, throw everyone to the ground and rip your pants just to get free of the horror your life has become. Everyone is now on the floor screaming in between bouts of seal coughing while you limp to the bathroom in your soiled and ripped pants. These were your lucky pants too.
To prospective parents, take heed. If you think you can handle that, then you may in fact be ready for children. If that story horrifies you, then perhaps you should go on vacation where I hear no one stomps on your balls and there are bathrooms everywhere.