Farewell for Now

The two-year-old is heading for an indefinite time-out, y’all. Go ahead, reach for your tissues now. I’ll wait.


OK then. Good to go?

Back to it: Thanky will be on a hiatus for the foreseeable future. It’s not that she’s been bad, she just needs time to sort through things.

I’ve likened Thanky to a kid before, and I’m about to do it again. Those of you with children who are scoffing, that’s fine. I don’t blame you. But I submit this to you:

I was reading an article about reasons to have a large family earlier today, and someone wrote a comment which said, “Kids are the most difficult/most rewarding gifts life has to offer.”

I take issue with this statement because, quite simply, it’s not true. Everyone has something that’s “the” most difficult/most rewarding in life. Someone working through childhood trauma, through a death, through a disability – maybe even the inability to have children – those are pretty big things which our friend the commenter is forgetting. For those of us without kids, the statement is to say that we’ll never know true difficulty, or the joy of being truly rewarded.


Neither side of the fence is right when it comes to having/not having kids, the same way in which one person who enjoys breakfast over dinner compared to another who enjoys dinner over breakfast is right. It is what it is what it is. Everyone has their druthers.

I had a very clear thought this morning about tabling Thanky, and this post was intended to be short. But then the day went on and I read a bit here, perused a bit there and, before you know it, my short post became multi-pronged. I have a habit of merging (shoe-horning?) things into the same box, and this is one of those times.

When you go on auto-pilot and do the bare minimum, things are neither truly difficult nor truly rewarding – not life, not love, not raising a kid, not writing. Auto-pilot implies a sort of distance: one-third avoidance, one-third selfishness and one-third extrication is what this equates to for me.

Thanky has unfortunately ended up on auto-pilot, so for it to become truly rewarding – and difficult – again, it needs time to sit in the corner with its dunce cap on, ponder the meaning of life and, eventually, continue on its way.

For your support of Thanky to-date, I am most grateful. Farewell for now, but never good-bye.

2 thoughts on “Farewell for Now

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