Back in college, a friend and I decided we were not the type of women who would have children. Children were messy, loud, not easy to accessorize with and above all, costly. So costly, in fact, that if you did have one, especially out of wedlock, it would only be a matter of time before you were stealing toilet paper from MacDonalds and picking raisins out of the musty rental apartment carpet so that you could get your damage deposit back.
Of course, we were right. My friend went to to become a professor who has written plenty on the subject. not raisins in the carpet, but choosing to be childless.
I of course, went on to have a child and to learn firsthand about moving across the country for work and letting go of my social life and function versus form (baby gates are a necessary evil) and for a good while, building up my tolerance for all manner of unsexy things that go right along with parenting.
A few years in, I was discussing these aspects of parenthood with my mildly interested single older brother. I told him it was great, but not without its raisins. "Raisins?". I filled him in on "raisins in the carpet" and this got us talking about all things "raisiny". Yeah, I know we have it good here in the "West" and depression is not anything to trivialize. but what about mildly depressing things? They bug us. they cast a grainy shadow on minuscule moments of our lives and I think it is about time we discuss them.
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