I found out today that someone else I know is pregnant. For the sake of confidentiality, I won’t say who it is (she’s only a few weeks along). For the sake of all of the rumor mills out there, trust me when I say you don’t know who it is. Seriously. You don’t know her. And it most certainly is not me.
(Mom, you can breathe a huge sigh of relief now).
I’m not sure how I feel about all of this baby dust in the air. On the one hand, yay, babies. The more people who have ’em, the more I can play with ’em (and then hand them back to their parents when they start to cry or shit their pants). I am very much looking forward to smelling sweet little baby heads and blowing raspberries on chubby little baby tummies.
On the other hand, holy crap, babies. I’m not sure if I’m ready for my life to change (and with this many people moving on to the next phase of their lives, things are gonna change, you betcha). I’m not sure if I’m ready for people who are younger than me to be having kids. My Dad was my age (maybe even a bit younger) when I was born. It just boggles my mind.
I’m also not sure how I feel about people our age having babies (something that my ovaries scream “yes! yes! we wants it! the precious!” about when my brain is going “oh hells no.”) when the other half of my particular equation swears that he won’t be ready until he’s like 50. But that’s a story for another day.
I think you’d make a great mom.
If you wait until you are ready, you’ll end up never having kids (not that there is anything wrong with that).