If you value the efficiency of your systems, do not bring children into your life. If you value love, invite them in. If you focus on the tick of your days, the measure of your hours, the things ordered on life’s list, you won’t want little people around. They interfere with the efficiency of your systems.
Mental agility and a talent for abstraction won’t help you restore order, because puke is real, full diaper pails cannot be reasoned away, fluids and fluid situations are widespread, and spreading like a stain. Intellect won’t cut a deal with a tantrum, but making silly faces can work. When your child’s emotional buttons light up in Whole Foods and the produce section melts into an inferno of thwarted desire for a Fuji, you have no choice but to steer toward intuition, reach into the bag of unconditional love you brought along, quickly construct patience from the materials at hand. It’s messy. Not efficient.
If you don’t happen to have a child, or it’s been a while since you lived with one, think of the fierce love of an animal. A dog or a cat will beam a laser of unconditional love at you, warming you with their constancy and loyalty. That’s what being a parent is like, only bigger and louder.
The efficiency of our systems is totally shot, but we have something else. We have messy, fluid, constant love.