My Hands Are Rated E for Everyone (and Other Reasons I’m Childfree)
Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t hate kids. I think they’re fascinating little chaos machines with sticky hands and unfiltered thoughts. I’ve laughed at their brutally honest observations, and I’ve admired their wild imaginations. But none of that means I want one in my home 24/7, wrecking my sleep schedule and asking me 47 questions before breakfast.
I’ve heard it all: “You’ll change your mind,” “It’s different when they’re yours,” and my personal favorite, “Who will take care of you when you’re old?” To which I usually respond, “Probably a nurse. One I’ll be able to afford because I didn’t spend $300,000 raising a child.”
Now, about those hands. Yes, they’re rated E for Everyone—meaning, they’re ready to help a friend move, high-five a coworker, comfort a loved one, or hold a cocktail with supreme elegance. But they are not here to wipe noses, change diapers, or pull a screaming toddler out of a Target shopping cart. That’s a full-time job I never applied for.
People often assume childfree folks are selfish. But what’s more selfish—having a child because you want a “mini-me” or choosing not to bring a person into the world you’re not emotionally, mentally, or financially prepared to care for? I know my limits, and I respect them. That’s not selfish; that’s responsible.
There’s also the freedom factor. I like waking up when I want, taking spontaneous road trips, and spending my Sunday binge-watching true crime documentaries without someone asking for juice every 10 minutes. I enjoy silence. I enjoy having conversations that don’t involve the phrase “use your inside voice.” And yes, I enjoy sleeping eight uninterrupted hours a night.
Let’s not forget the world we live in. Climate anxiety is real. The cost of living keeps rising. The headlines are, frankly, exhausting. Choosing to remain childfree isn’t just about lifestyle—it’s a reaction to reality. I’d rather focus my energy on being a great aunt, a generous friend, a mentor, or a pet parent.
And can we talk about the double standards? A man says he doesn’t want kids and people nod like he’s just made a sensible business decision. A woman says the same and suddenly she’s an anomaly, a “phase,” or just waiting for “the right man” to change her mind. Newsflash: the right man would bring tacos, not a nursery blueprint.
To be clear, I have enormous respect for parents. You’re raising the future, one fruit snack at a time. That’s a job I’m glad someone is doing. It’s just not going to be me.
So no, I won’t be bringing a bundle of joy into the world. But I will be bringing snacks to your kid’s birthday party, offering to babysit in an emergency, and high-fiving you for keeping it together when you haven’t peed alone in three years.
My hands are open—for community, connection, and clapping loudly at your kid’s school play. Just not for changing diapers. And that’s perfectly okay.
