I had lunch with my newly pregnant friend today. This is her first pregnancy after trying for a good long while to get knocked up. So, Big Ups to her and her dude for doin’ it and getting the desired results. I have had many, many conversations about babies of late, and fertility, and open adoption, and traumatic childhoods, and choosing to remain child free, and of course, kids. Mine, and others. All of which have left me with the twitch to nurture something small and warm. I don’t know why I am even confessing this to the blogosphere because it’s a twitch that will probably go away soon enough, but it seems like it’s been there a lot lately. It doesn’t help that my friend said, “You should get knocked up again, so we can go through it together.” And, “You guys are such an adorable family, don’t you want one more?” Yes, I am THAT easily swayed. Because I DO WANT ONE MORE! There. I said it. Dang.
But, here’s the deal, I am 3*** years old. I would be 5** when little boo boo graduates from high school. I guess that it really wouldn’t matter, but I might want to be doing something else, as I near retirement, besides experiencing the empty nest. And, there is that whole not sleeping thing. Plus, they get sassy. Take, The Kid: He tells me the other day that he needs to eat the remaining chicken wings that his dad made because he is growing and we aren’t. He needs the protein, he says. Sassy! He asks me if he will ever find love as an adult because he wears glasses. Of course, I tell him. You already have love. ” Not from YOU, Mom.,” he says. Look Kid: You are SEVEN. Then, he asks me if I think he should grow a beard.
If I had two philosophers on my hands, in addition to Wolverine, I might go a little nuts. Or, nuttier than I already am anyway. Maybe we just need a puppy?