I was watching Supernanny yesterday, and I came to a conclusion; I don’t want to have children.

Who wants a tiny creature that screams, whines, bites, hits and talks back with an attitude? You have to feed it, bathe it and discipline it over cries of “I don’t wanna!” and “I’m not gonna!” They have to be enrolled in good schools to give them an edge, preferably reading by age three and doing simple algebra at age six. They play instruments badly. They perform in mandatory school functions where lines are screamed out and at least one child starts crying on stage.

When adolescence hits, they are moody, have a tendency to know everything and write bad poetry. Doors slam and diaries are filled with despair over how parents just don’t understand. When they leave the house, all the lessons you tried to cram into the little ingrate’s head fly away in a fit of drunken parties and poor decisions. They come home wanting to be artists when you pushed accounting, and they marry the absolute worst choice of spouse.

Added to the stress that the child brings, there is the stress of people. People are constantly telling you the “right way” to parent. Spank the child. No, don’t spank the child it leads to emotional scars! When the child screams, leave it be until it stops. No, don’t leave it be, it will grow up with abandonment issues! Sweets are good reinforcements. No, actually they will lead the child to obesity and early death. No TV. Yes TV. Okay TV, but only if they watch public television. But avoid Teletubbies; that purple one is gay, you know.

I have the opposite of rose-colored glasses when I contemplate parenthood. I’m feeling ill just thinking about the stress, the obligation, the responsibility and the thankless hours it takes to raise a child. I usually explain my pessimism with the “But I’m too young to be a parent!” argument. However, I am 22 now. That is two years older than my dad was when I was born. And as each year passes, the net of parenthood inches closer. I know I only have three or four more years-tops-before certain members of my family begin to inquire about the fact that I am unmarried and have yet to reproduce.

I think my fear is healthy. Better to denounce child rearing than be craving a baby when I am too poor and strapped for time to properly care for a child. But part of me wonders if I’d ever be willing to take that plunge. My sister has. My nephew Alex is 4 months old. He fidgets and squeals, but overall he is ridiculously cute. She seems tired, but happy with her offspring, and when she plays with him her face radiates joy. Seeing the effect of parenthood on my sister makes me a little less fearful of the idea of me being a parent. But you can bet that there won’t be any little Ambers running around for a good long time.