Babies, babies, babies (Part 1)

Babies, babies, babies... the little poop machines are everywhere!

Yes, pick your jaw up off the floor because I just called babies little poop machines. Honestly, it’s true and you know it, but you just don’t normally say it aloud.

I am so sick and tired of babies, which is absolutely terrible because I love babies and would like to have one or two later in life. “Later in life,” that’s my current predicament it seems. I would like to have babies, L-A-T-E-R!!!!

As in, not right now. Not in the next two years. Oh for Pete’s sake, I’ll be older than 30 when I have one.

Of course, in some crowds if you make it known (which I don’t normally advertise) that you don’t plan on having children until after 30, then that acts as an open invitation for people start to criticize you. It’s almost as if I said I wanted to pick up a drug habit, eat fish everyday, down a few bottles of wine, get knocked up and then give birth on the moon. Or maybe Mars because I think that’s probably a more hostile environment than the moon (anyone?????). Honestly, there could be more destructive things to do while pregnant, but I’m slightly out of the loop on those topics. It’s a perk of being not pregnant.

I’m tired of babies and I fear I might be alone. Well, not completely alone because the hubs is tired of them too. Woohoo, solidarity!

The hubs and I have entered our late-twenties. If you judged our internal time clocks by the cover of our refrigerator, then you’d probably think we were getting ready to have a baby. Not quite, just the vast majority of our friends and family members are having babies. Right now we’re outnumbered in the baby announcement/baby shower/little child photos to wedding invitations/bridal shower invites 4:1. Those are either amazing odds or terrible odds depending on your point of view.

Around us everyone is hopping on the baby train. I’m sure it’s a fun ride, but I want to stick with the adult roller coasters for a few more years before I settle in for hours and hours of going around on Dumbo the ride. Dumbo’s fantastic, don’t get me wrong, but I’m still in the mood for rides that have minimum height requirements.

Babies make me tired because it seems every time a little poop machine makes his or her presence I have to start playing defense. I have to defend myself against the world who seems to think that I’m a freak of nature for not wanting to have a baby ASAP. Look, I played defense on my soccer teams for years. I can play defense and I can play defense well. It’s just a bit draining sometimes, which so are babies for that matter. Or, so I hear.

The hubs and I were married young, well, I consider 24 years old to be EXTREMELY YOUNG, but the guy really wanted to get hitched. I, personally, would have preferred to stay engaged for a couple more years, but I think I pushed the hubs nearly to his breaking point when I went with a two-and-a-half years engagement.

Being 25 was nice and fun. I could play the, “oh, we’re newlyweds” card. That thing worked like gold because everyone would just smile and nod along in pure agreement. “Sure, there’s no reason to settle down with a bunch of kids right now. You’re young, you’ve got plenty of time.”

Then, I turned 26 and the hubs and I crossed over the newlywed threshold. Thankfully, people mainly kept their distance about the kiddo topic. I think there was a moment of weakness on my part when I was cornered and I may have said, “oh, we’ll probably have a kid right before I turn 30.”

Yes, “I turn 30.” Not, when “we turn 30.” Because I’m just over four months older than the hubs and goodness gracious he likes to rub that sucker in sometimes. But, he’s on my team, so it’s cool.

February came and past and low and behold I was now 27. I don’t feel any different than being 26, but apparently I missed some massive memo of epic importantness.

The baby gates were thrust open and I was the person trying to duck out of the party. I’ve had to retract my previously coerced statement and backed as far away as possible from saying anything about kids and being under the age of 30. I tried to soften the blow and say, “kids are probably somewhere in our five year plan.” That sounds reasonable enough, right? It’s a nice noncommittal way of saying, “sure, but let’s really not get nailed down to any specific timetables.”

So for now, I’m tired of babies. The little poop machines are stressing me out and I don’t even have one or want to have one in the next few years (is that too vague?).


Oh, and for future reference. To all my friends who either have babies, are currently pregnant and/or are trying desperately to have a child please keep this in mind: this post isn’t about you. Really, you guys aren’t part of my current issue. Your kids are are adorable. I’m so happy for you it isn’t even funny. I'll even volunteer to babysit your little ones. Of course, poop freaks me out so if you could wait until your little bundle of joy is potty trained, well then I'll cut you an awesome rate on a night of babysitting.

(Part 1)