It’s About Time…

Posted by admin | Filed under Babies, Insane in the MOMbrane, Motherhood, Pregnancy, Stay At Home Moms, Uncategorized, Womanhood, parenting

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…for another baby.

*Bursts out laughing, shoving an entire packet of birth control pills down throat with glee, washing it down with some vodka.*

NOT!

Have you ever met the woman who treats having kids like some sort of Olympic sport? Yeah? No? If not, I can introduce you to her. She's annoying as fuck. She's kind of like the woman who treats motherhood as a competitive sport, except that Preggo (what I will heretoforthwith call her) really stops caring about her kid the minute she has another one. Ok, not completely stops caring, of course. But kind of just removes the earlier-born child from her focus.

God, I'm a judgmental bitch.

But it's almost like… they aren't truly happy unless they're pregnant. Or have just been pregnant. Or are trying to get pregnant. As though their very self-worth teeters on their ability to make babies. Constantly.

I am happy / proud / thrilled to say that I think I may be done with having kids. I mean, I don't want to rule it out, as several years from now, preferably before my ovaries dry up, I may reconsider. It really depends on how drunk I am at that point. But I'm definitely not even going to think about it until I've completely forgotten how fucking miserable Newborn Land is. And guess what? I am not even close to forgetting at this point.

Plus, there's the whole Nip/Tuck issue. I want fake boobies eventually, so I have consider that as well. No point in lifting everything just to watch it drop again.

And for those of you who are thinking, "But you have to try again for a BOY!" No, I don't. NO, I FUCKING DON'T. I was given two beautiful, healthy girls. Why the shit would I complain? I'm sure having a son brings all sorts of different joys, but seriously, I'm fine. I'll survive. Really.

Plus, I've heard the stories about the shooting pee at diaper changes, and would rather not have to worry about it. I'm not sure I would know what to do with a baby that has those kind of parts to it.

So the other day I overheard a Preggo gushing, "We're pregnant again!" while I was at the gym. I happen to sort of know this woman, and I sort of know that her youngest (she already has two) is younger than Ava. And her oldest is younger than Nora. So she already has a three-year-old and a fifteen-month-old. And I have a question: Why? Don't tell me you love every second of it. Don't. Because I won't believe you. I'll think you're full of shit, dissatisfied with something in your life, and therefore use procreation as a coping mechanism.

Oh, and for the record, I am in a great mood tonight. *Beams*

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Permalink | December 10th, 2009

5 Responses to “It’s About Time…”

  1. Sam Says:
    December 11th, 2009 at 5:42 am

    I’m so excited and validated (both!) to see someone else has noticed this phenomenon. I had a friend who now has four kids, each almost two years apart. She just told me she loved babies. Turns out she took a lot of vicodin in between, which might have to do with the pregnancies….the getting pregnant again part that is. And I too am waiting for my boob upgrade – the husband is fixed so we’re DEF not in the market. One word: colic. That should cure ANYone of baby makin’. :)

  2. Amber Says:
    December 11th, 2009 at 6:50 am

    I want boobies too! I am so glad that I am not the only one out there! Oh and all I can say is…DUGGAR family!

  3. Steph Says:
    December 11th, 2009 at 1:40 pm

    I told my husband if he wanted another one, he could carry it, and we only have one, he is 5 months.

  4. Aunt Becky Says:
    December 11th, 2009 at 2:26 pm

    I’m pretty thrilled to be done. Tummy tuck, here I COME.

  5. Brianna Says:
    December 12th, 2009 at 3:30 pm

    Dude, I only had kids a year apart because birth control is a bitch and hates my fucking guts. Irish twins sucks. Now, we did this last one intentionally so I could get back surgery done sooner. Because seriously? Back pain so bad I cry when moving sucks ass. And I was told getting pregnant after the surgery would be dangerous. So I wanted three, I’m gonna have three, then I’m getting my fucking tubes tied and fixing my shit. I have reasons, dude. These people? Are just plain nuts. “I must be gestating to be happy!” Go buy a vibe, woman, damn. Or some prozac. Whatever. Jeebus.

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