As of late, a conversation has continued to surface…mixing itself into random topics like what shade Lexi’s poo was…more often than I would deem sane.
What is it, you ask? What cannot seem to keep itself at bay for longer than like…thirty seconds?
It revolves around procreation.
You know, kids.
Are we going to have them? How many? When? How? Should we? WHEN?
And I don’t have a fucking clue.
Kids terrify me.
No, having my own terrify me. I’m fine with babysitting…or watching other kids romp around the heels of their parents…cause I get to go home to silence…where our “kids” can sit in their crate.
I can’t put a baby in a crate. I mean, unless I want to be labeled the unfit-mother-psycho-woman-who-locks-her-kids-in-a crate.
And just so you know, I’m totally clear on the what-is-appropriate-for-a-crate-and-what-is-not.
On top of all that, the whole “being pregnant” thing…I don’t want to end up with stretch marks or a flappy stomach or other pieces parts not “working” like they used to…
I want my body to BE THE SAME after those hellacious nine months…and from what research I’ve gathered…
Plus…ummm I’d like to be successful…you know, like, career-wise. Will a child hinder or help that?
Hell if I know. It’d make for some interesting, disgusting, why-the-hell-would-you-share-that? stories…that’s for damn sure.
I know. I’m whining. It’s totally selfish…probably immature…
But I cannot even keep a PLANT ALIVE.
How am I supposed to handle an INFANT?
And I freak out now if when I gain 5 pounds…and you expect me to be ok with TWENTY-FIVE?….THIRTY?…
Oh, hell no. Tim is going to have to force feed me.
I KNOW…it’s the “baby” and “the uterus” and “the fluids” and “whatever” ….
It’s just not computing in my brain.
And, after reviewing my crazy rant, I think I just answered my own question:
Having kids…right now…BAD IDEA.
Problem is, I LOVE all the crafty-cutty-pastey stuff where you get to make cupcakes with faces or little drawings for the fridge or go fun places like the park to look at leaves and feed the ducks…I LOVE playing with kids and watching them discover new things and that look on their face the first time they figure something out on their own…it absolutely makes me melt.
That kind of love is the same kind of love like I LOVE chocolate and diamonds and new things…like purses…
And I don’t think Tim is going to tolerate my coloring on his lunch box and cutting his sandwich into shapes much longer.