A friend of mine got engaged recently, and when I visited him and his fiancee, they asked me probing questions about kids. How does it change things? Is it worth it? Do you lose all your time?

I remember asking those same kinds of questions when my wife and I first started seriously contemplating having kids. In general, the answers I got were very positive - yes, it’s absolutely worth it. They were also, though, somehow unsatisfactory and vague. Those same people had bags under their eyes, would constantly be interrupted by their energetic offspring, and would be hard to do fun things with that did not involve kids. When asked why it was all worth it, they would use vague phrases like “Your heart is walking around outside of your body.” It was like a cult: they couldn’t clearly articulate why it was so great, they would mostly only hang out with other “cult members” (parents), and on many of the metrics a single man might care about (energy level, sleep quality, ability and time to do fun things etc.), they were clearly doing worse.

In the end, I concluded that there was really no way to know what it’s like to have kids other than to jump in and do it. And so, eventually, I did.

Why and when to jump in

This should go without saying, but to be explicit: being a parent is not for everyone and not at all times. I shudder trying to imagine myself as a parent as a teenager, before I’d got to do all the things I wanted to do. I am sure that some teens make a great go of it as parents, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been me.

In 2019, I left my job running Ecogate to spend a year doing some of the things that are simple for a single man to do and that would be much harder to do with a family. I visited 15 countries, rode motorcycles through tiny villages to lonely mountaintops, hopped and swam down canyons, and slept in tiny shacks. I wrote a screenplay, which has not been made into a major motion picture. I learned to surf. I met lots of people. I had a good ole’ time.

And yet, after a few months, I noticed there was something missing, some gap or void tugging at my consciousness. I started doing various projects that felt a lot like unpaid work - the screenplay, the Micelf prototype, and so on. I was ready to shoulder some responsibilities again.

But even that wasn’t quite it. I do get fulfillment from my work, but that still wasn’t quite filling that nameless void. Eventually I decided that my body was telling me to join every single one of my ancestors and have some kids. It was time.

Joy

I look at some of my single or childless friends, and see their exotic travels, and sometimes I do wish it was easier to do more of that. But every time I look at those travel photos, and their other hobbies - a nice mechanical watch, designing and building their own furniture, playing a yet-trickier song on guitar - I also have complete confidence that none of those activities would bring me the same joy or fulfillment that my daughter does.

My daughter is two and half now, and I think at this age children are capable of experiencing joy to a degree that is just impossible for an adult. The simplest things can bring this out - Astro, our dog, running along with us while we ride my mountain bike, getting a toy car to go just the right way, or when she finally correctly describes what is happening in the story we read before bed.

Humans naturally mirror each other’s emotions, so when my daughter laughs in this great joy, it creates some of that same joy in me. This is a deeper joy than I can recall from before she came into my life, and indeed I don’t think words can do it justice. The best soccer goals I’ve scored, the best mountain bike turns and jumps I’ve hit, the best software and products I’ve made… none of them can compare to that joy. It’s of an entirely different class.

There’s also longer-term fulfillment - watching her grow over time is fantastic. This summer I spent time teaching her how to swim. When we started, she was scared of the pool. Today, she laughs with incredible glee every time she jumps in, and keeps giggling the whole time as she swims circles. The only sad part is when it’s time to stop. That growth process has been fun and fulfilling for both of us.

Still, just like those friends whom I’d asked before I had kids, I cannot fully articulate all the positives of being a parent. DHH discussed this during his interview with Lex Fridman - the practical negatives of parenting are easy to articulate, but the overwhelming connection and love can only be understood by going through it yourself. DHH said that all his life he’d been living on a 1-10 scale of happiness, and after having kids he’d realized that it actually goes all the way to 100. Strong words.

None of this is to suggest that the downsides aren’t real. I am dictating these words at 3:00 a.m. while feeding a 2-month-old, and remember how just a few days ago I was asking myself how poop could have possibly gotten on the wall. I feel keenly aware of the downsides. We’ll see how I deal with teenagers; I shudder to think of some of the ways I acted as a teenager (sorry mom, dad, and others). I guess that’s just a normal part of human development, and everything I dished out I’ll get paid back starting in eleven years or so. But so far, after those tough first few months, it’s been a deal I’d take just about any day.

Psychologist Daniel Gilbert and colleagues have done surveys on life satisfaction by age (also known as “happiness curve” surveys), and asked people of various ages the following questions: How happy are you now? How happy do you think you’ll be in 5, 10, or 20 years? How happy do you remember being at earlier ages?

Their main finding is that people at any given age tend to predict that their current age is the “best of times,” and that happiness will decline in the future — yet, when they actually reach those later ages, they’re just as happy (or even happier).

I think parenting is a little bit like that: from the outside it doesn’t look like it could possibly be better than what you have without kids, and yet once you find yourself there, you find that somehow it is.

The most important thing is not everything

So far, pretty uncontroversial. Here’s where things may get trickier.

In the US now there’s this trend of superparents, and especially super moms, who try to do everything - all the extracurriculars, all the detailed prep, help with homework every night, all the PTA meetings, every single thing done to perfection. And I think that’s probably good for neither the parents nor the kids.

If you’re a parent, kids may well be the most important thing in your life… but the most important is not everything. DHH still races cars. I still ride motorcycles and mountain bikes. Humans are multidimensional, and no matter how awesome your kids, there are itches that they cannot scratch. A part of me still needs adrenaline and flow.

Even if you are someone who could give up on fulfilling those needs in your life, I think making your kids the center of your life, and making them your own path to fulfillment is probably not healthy for you or them - you will harbor resentment for all the things you gave up, and the kids face terrible pressure to be perfect in every way, lest they be the reason that your life is less than perfect. It’s also important for kids to see that life isn’t all about shouldering responsibilities and being infinitely selfless - it’s OK to have fun, too. If your kids see you loving your life, I think it will help them love theirs, too. This is also the central message of Julie Lythcott-Haims’ book How to Raise an Adult, which gets 3/5 Krystof stars.

So don’t worry too much, have some kids, and enjoy your life with them!