Baby Fever, It's Like Boogie Fever...But With Babies
Last week I became an aunt again. My sister gave birth to a teenytinypreshyprincessfaceomgIwanttoeatherfaceoff!! little lady named Avery. I am excited, guys. Like, super duper excited. I am flying to Colorado next month to meet her and sneak her into my carry on to bring back to America's penis (#fuckingflorida). Speaking of kidnapping, I need to figure out how to shove my other niece into my luggage. She is decidedly taller, but probably weighs just as much as her newborn counterpart.
Aside from the smuggling of children across state lines, I just KNOW I will have another problem when I see my new niece for the first time: my uterus is going to go into baby hyper-drive mode. Basically my brain will try to tell me that birth control pills are stupid (they are, for the record. But an evil necessity. I get it. Doesn't make them suck any less) and that I should just throw them in the trash. Then I'm going to start paying more attention to any scene on television that contains a baby. I will start standing uncomfortably close to strangers with babies, whist trying my hardest to hide the fact that I am inhaling their child's precious scent, thus stealing it's youth, obviously. My biological clock will start acting like all of those assholes did when they thought Y2K was really going to happen.
So yeah, I'm nervous. Because the truth is, I have no idea if I will want another baby in the next few years. I say no now, but fuck if I actually know what I want. My husband and I are two of the most spontaneous people you will meet. For real. We rarely think long term commitments through. That's just how we roll. And that works for us. So if you want to judge, move it along, cause ain't nobody got time for that shit. Maybe we'll have another baby, or maybe he'll get the 'ol sniparoo like we've talked about so many times. What I DO know is, there is a baby waiting for me in Colorado. And she's a dangerous little shit already. All babies are. Beware.