b-a-b-y

If people keep bringing their babies around the office for show and tell, I am going to want one. Normally I have to make myself think like a normal woman and admit that I want children… because normally, I don’t want them at all. My nose is actually wrinkling right now at the thought of stretch marks, vomiting, labour pains, and NO MORE SOLITUDE: EVER.

 But when you bring your cute babies around the office, you alter my happy oblivion for a moment – which is long enough indeed. But really, who wouldn’t want to have ownership rights over the cutest, cuddliest thing in the room? Nothing makes me happier than being the one who gets to hold the baby – partly because I know it’s a place of honour and that every other woman in the whole wide world is jealous that I get to hold the baby and they do not. I can’t even imagine how cool it would be to play the “Mom” trump card on a daily basis, “Um yes, that baby is mine. I get to hold the baby now.”

This is probably one of the reasons I’ve changed my mind lately about wanting kids of my own – I think I want them for the wrong reasons, when I want them at all. And then I start to think about how little time I have now to shower on a regular basis and eat three meals a day and I realize: there is no room left at the Inn. I’m sure you’re going to tell me that my priorities will rearrange themselves “when that day comes”… but I really like my priorities the way they are, right now. And I like that I get to send the kidlings home with their parents instead of keeping them with me around the clock. I hope that’s okay. If not, I’ve worked out a bit of a compromise: you can have all the babies. Then you can let me hold the babies when we are in public (so people feel jealous, of course). And obviously, you’ll take the babies back once they start pooping.