As I spend much of each day pining for a tiny little ball of snot to call my own, I often wonder if "baby" is actually what I'm after. I mean, I assume it is. I get all maternal and want to protect things and make them dinner (badly) and clean up after them (a little). I see pictures of baby showers and think that gifts would be really nice, and I want to buy presents for friends who are having babies. I like snuggles and happiness, and I think I could even put up with a little spit up.
Then this creeping thought comes into my head…
Just get a puppy.
Puppies are way easier. They are labor intensive for the first year, and then they just, you know, chill the eff out. They're cheaper. You can leave them in boxes during the day and just go to work. No day care. No child abandonment issues. They may chew up a pair of expensive shoes, but they don't make your entire life smell like vomit. You can shower when you have a puppy because of the aforementioned box. You can watch television with foul language without worrying about the puppy picking it up.
You can even *gasp* curse really loudly in front of it without being labeled a bad dog parent.
(Sidenote: If cursing in front of your dog made you a bad dog parent, I would be in jail for animal cruelty every day. Multiple times.)
Of course, I say this all in jest knowing that parenthood will take what I feel for my dogs and multiply it by a bazillion to the quadrillionth degree. That's math, folks.
But do I really need that kind of intense passionate love if it's going to be that much damn work?
I think about sleeping through the night for most of the rest of my life. I think about buying expensive clothes and keeping them in good condition. I think about puppy breath.
Is baby breath a thing?
Maybe that's what I'm missing.
As always, it's hip to be square (and indecisive!), kids.