Are Babies Actually Aliens?


Babies—or aliens, whatever term you prefer.

I don’t want any of that. (And I am mostly writing this post as a reminder for when I turn 30, aka old and decrepit, and start to forget things.)

Once upon a time, okay so maybe like once every other week, my father reminds me that not everyone is meant to pro-create.

He looks at me, with gaze unwavering or sometimes an arm place around my shoulder like we are old friends, regardless of the setting we are in and says:

“Ariel, not everyone is meant to pro-create.”

Always the same line.

 Like I get it, Charles. Okay, I get it. Even though you aren’t saying YOU, using my name insinuates the same damn thing. But, hey, I am not saying I disagree.

Don’t get me wrong, I like children. I enjoy annoying them and returning them back to their parents once they’ve started to wail and snot at the nose and they’re no longer fun to play with. Or look at for that matter. But I have never been captivated by the idea of having one of my own. (And this is twenty-something young, wild, and free Ariel speaking).

I say this to people and they act insulted, as if I personally looked them in the eye and told them that their own kid is ugly. I mean I would never do that, I like to imagine that I have more tact than that.

But I get the:

“You don’t mean that; you’ll change your mind.”

“You’re so young, you don’t know what you want.”

“Kids give you purpose; they are the greatest love you’ll ever have.”

“Who is going to take care of you when you’re older?”


I also get the:

“When are you going to start settling down?’ (TRACY TAYLOR, just let me live.)

“You are going to be a spinster for the rest of your life.” (Just trying to make you proud, MOM.)

“So, do you think you will ever be NOT single, or?” (SAM, judge me one more time and see if I continue to answer your annoying calls at 8:15 am.)



I do not predict a change in mind, and if I do, then I am probably possessed by some baby loving cult and you should seriously save me. But when it comes down to it, it’s my uterus and my lady area and I don’t want any gremlin tearing it apart, sucking out the nutrients from my body like a little terror vampire, and serving as a reminder for the rest of my life that I have to spend money ON THEM and instead of myself.

I am a twenty-something and we are selfish, as we are allowed to be per right of passage. At least I tell myself this, but my sister’s finance told me that this is something that I have made up. He could be right; he is right about a lot of stuff. Kid’s a genius.

Regardless, we are all entitled to our opinions, and I totally get that, but I think your opinion is stupid when you give me fifty reasons why I should have a child instead of supporting my decisions not to, especially when I support all of yours (subtweet at the fam&friends, ykwyr.)

So let me give you reasons as to why it is in THE WORLD’S best interest that I do not pro-create a little human:


  1. Really quick, just imagine a little Ariel running around, because we all know I would be CURSED with a girl. All sass, all drama. Her first word would be an abbreviation of some sort and she would grow up to think she was a wizard, setting her up for a life of disappointed. I can’t have that hanging over my head, I refuse.


  1. I am twenty-something (my real age is irrelevant) and I can barely take care of myself. I forget all of the responsibilities that I have. I don’t even know how to cook, I don’t remember the last time I have done laundry. My mom still makes my dentist appointments (and comes with me to them, so what). I literally FORGET that I am an adult, what makes you think I won’t forget that I have a kid if I were to have one?



  1. All of the pets I have ever owned have DIED. I don’t know why or how—probably because I didn’t feed them, but they have died. And children are like dogs. You have to like clean up after them and take them to the park. AND PAY FOR DOGGY DAYCARE. Absolutely not. That is a hard no. And they slobber, talking about kids now, and lick you—I witnessed my little niece LICK her Tante’s face just the other day and I was appalled, and they run around a lot and have too much energy—way too old, and probably hung-over at this point to keep up with that mess. I can’t live that life.


  1. I instigate. All of the time. I have gotten into an actual fight with an eight year old where I locked her out of my room because she wouldn’t give me my phone back. And when that eight-year-old was six, I bribed her with lipstick to not tell her mom that I locked her in the bathroom because I needed a break. This is all real life situations. And then there is my 2-year-old niece who I annoy for my own enjoyment. Watch the video below and witness it yourself.



  1. I don’t adult. I don’t want to adult. And I don’t want to be responsible to teach another human how to adult either. I am not a manual guys, they would fail in life. And I doubt I would feel bad about it either.


All you moms and dads out there, I give you guys tons of credit for everything you do. My parents raised THREE girls and we all turned out okay, and I would consider that to be one of their biggest achievements in life—also you’re welcome that I turned out to be a contribution to society instead of an extra body on death row. But to the single moms, single dads, divorced parents, grossly in love parents, step parents (who are always under credited) and any other owner of children, you guys are great. And I respect most of you. And your decision to be parents. It truly is a miraculous experience and role and I know that. I applaud all of you that make daily and life-long sacrifices for your children. My parents have been doing that my entire life and my love for them is something I could never elaborate on using words. So keep showing our young ones a world that is strange and beautiful and keep encouraging them to dream big and not only big, but without boundaries.

Just remember, its probs best if some humans out there just don’t pro-create, though.

And even if they should, and would make dope parents, respect their decisions of not wanting to.

With all of that being said, let me just leave this here as well:

My sister called me a couple of weeks, laughing so hard that I am pretty sure it turned into a wheeze (no offense, Sam). She had just left visiting my Memere Roland who is a vivacious, stubborn old Canadian lady. And they were talking about …. Kids. That’s right, you got it. Mem was asking Sam how many kids she wanted. And Sam said either two or three. Probably three because her fiancé has two brothers and Sam has two sisters. My memere, the little angel that she is, said no, no you can’t have three kids. That’s unlucky. And Sam was all like why is that unlucky. And she said, it just is, look how your sister Ariel turned out.

Chances are, if you’re reading this, then you’re the unlucky child, too.

After you read this give your parents a big hug and thank them for putting up with your annoying ass all these years.


Stand by,


2 thoughts on “Are Babies Actually Aliens?

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