NO BABIES FOR YOU!

I don't mean to startle anyone, but word on the street is that I am not having any more babies.  probably.  No, really.  None. probably.  (disclaimer- I leave that here because we all know God is in control and if He were to send us another one I would do cartwheels (figuratively speaking) and Dan would have a stroke...........but it would be welcome in our home)

Dan is done.  And he is my husband.  And the keeper of our sperm.  Without him-and his sperm- babies are difficult.  Not to mention, if he doesn't want to participate- who will I ask to hold the baby so that I can pee and shower?  See my problem?

So even though now- probably more than ever- I desire to birth another child.........I am hanging it up.  But one of these three goofballs of mine BETTER produce some grandbabies for me to have hold someday.  And by someday I mean like when they are at least 25 (which seems a little young in my opinion-but they better crank them out before their wombs grow cobwebs if you know what I'm saying- which is apparently when they are 35- ugh) and financially able to take care of said babies and their mother who will be moving in.

Until that day, I have to live through other peoples babies.  And lucky for me, one stumbled into my living room this week.  Well, not him, but his mother.

His mother, whom I might add was beautifully made up, hair done, shirt on right side out AND speaking in complete understandable sentences.  Impressive.  (see that look on his face.......... he wanted me bad)

I might interject here that Emily hasn't stopped talking about babies since he was here.  I think she has hopes of getting one and keeping it in a cage in her room.  She'd have to wrestle me for it.  I just realized we never asked his name.  Huh.  We just called him whittle smookie pookie bayyyybeeeeeeee.  Whatev.

She was kind enough to allow my children to hold him.  I did make them wash their hands, because I'm a good baby stalker you know.

And he cried because he wants to live here forever and ever.

And because he wanted me to hold him too but I didn't have enough nerve to ask and she didn't offer because he was clearly melting down and starving.  Be still my heart, he was curling up his little tongue and my ovaries were quivering.

I could feel my milk letting down- I swear I could- and then I remembered I got none.  So I spoke of a carton of heavy whipping cream in the fridge and a wonderful life in the corner of my bedroom.

And his mother sacked him up and ran for the car.

How rude.

Until next time whittle baybeee.

Now- I must go shower and prepare to take my kids to register at those big gigantic schools and pretend like I am really going to start sending Allyson to that oversized intermediate school next week (all.the.way.across.town.with.other.hormonal.babies.children.pre-teens.) and Emily to ALL DAY first grade- as if.  I will walk the walk- but they will get my babies over my dead body.  Interestingly enough, with all this baby talk this morning I feel the need to strap Sam to my body in one of those contraptions.  I'm off to find the baby carrier and bungee cords to strap his legs out of my way.  Have a great day!