The Case For Making Babies
Okay, I knew Putin was going to start paying woman to have kids. I didn't know that for a society to replenish itself it needs two kids per one family. The thing I find amusing in this article is how America is portrayed as better than the other nations because HEY, we are replenishing our society. Go Us. One argument is that we have managed to balance work and family better... ahhh ha ha ha ha -- anyhow... Italy, Germany, Spain and Japan all have declining populations and will be doomed in 30 -50 years if they don't start popping them out. America, well we're doing fine, we're at a nice 2.1 replacement rate. Enough to keep society hopping, not enough to eat up all our resources. Me? I'm at 3:1, just trying to do my part, giving that extra bit to help out. Funny, how declining fertility rates can make an economy suffer. Now look at China. There is an awful lot of people in China, so many, they are trying to limit the amount of children people have. And their economy is booming. So all those folks who think having too many children is a bad thing? Flawed thinking. Time to do your patriotic duty and help replenish society. We are only a percentage point or two away from a declining population, help turn the tide, put off putting off children, have a baby, and give that baby some siblings. Anything less, and you are just part of our society's future decline.
McRed's pre-coffee thought
McRed had a deep thought this morning, so philosophical and truly, truly the kind that must be pondered and discussed over several years. Usually I like these thoughts, but I wasn't even halfway through my coffee when he spouted it, so I told him to blog it and tried to finish my coffee without hurting my brain. I'm not going to spoil his deep thought either. Eventually he'll put it down.
A Truly Deep Thought
My own thought wasn't quite that deep. It was a sudden dawning about.... nylons. The female tie. Oh sure, I own a pair 'just in case' I ever have a need for them, but they have so many runs and nail polish-patches they are really useless. I was running errands when I suddenly realized, I haven't worn nylons in years, and a sudden smile just unleashed itself, because I despise nylons as much as McRed despises ties. They are uncomfortable, scratchy and far too fragile to be practical. I am lucky that I can live my days without having to don those horrible things. Oh sure, when I was younger and actually going out at the time I now go to bed, I occasionally dressed up in the things, but now? Now, I' m nylon free.
The other thing I am free of is heels. Now, heels, in my case, can only be beneficial due to my shortness, but heels are not comfortable. Today, in the store, while I was pushing Bear in the carriage *he refused to go to the babysitting area with Turbo...he's figured out it's free mommy time if he fusses the bugger* I saw the most incredible sight. A well-groomed woman with a trendy hair cut in nice jeans unlike my faded beat up jeans, a white cable sweater over an actual collard shirt, unlike my grey ten-year-old pullover, *I also can't recall the last time I wore a collared shirt* and these two and a half inch heels. Now, first, that's not the usual look people round these here parts don, so she must not be local ha ha, I mean, she was grocery shopping. Who grocery shops dressed like that? The really off thing however, were the two children with her. This woman looked put together, cute, stylish, was wearing a pale color incapable of hiding kid-stains, AND heels, with two pre-schoolers? That is not fair. Now, I know it took her all morning just to leave the house, and she probably had to get up two hours before the kids just to put her look together and match her own kiddies in equally adoring outfits, but still, I don't need that kind of pressure. When I grocery shop with my little horde, I want the other moms grocery shopping to match me -- pair of jeans, pony-tail hair and comfortable shoes, far enough away from sweatpants to not be considered trailer park, but still comfortable and easily donnable in five minutes. And don't even talk to me about make up. Who for? Larry the produce manager? Ugh.