No, I don't want to hold your baby.

I don't hold other people's babies. I made this conscious decision that day that I got engaged. My struggle with whether to have children now or not is no one else's business. The mere act of cradling your little miracle in my arms means that you want to know when I will be doing the same. That stopped being your business when... Oh wait! It was never your business. It's like my own personal version of uninvited guests patting my baby bump. Stay away from my impregnated thought tummy! I have no proof that you washed your hands recently.

Also, your baby becomes infinitely less cute when it spits up all over me. I didn't get to enjoy the creation of the little booger eater, so I don't have to clean up his or her vomit. I'm also sure that that will be the day that my hair looks cute, and I don't need teeny tiny cracker-covered fingers pulling on it. 

Okay, I'm not that heartless no matter how hard I try. And you're right, I may actually even want to hold your baby. I'm just all for avoiding awkward situations that I see coming. The possibility of an awkward situation registers as a big stop sign of social interaction. I'm not a good liar. So, when I hold your baby, and you ask me when I want to have one of my own, I have to lie to you to avoid getting your input. If I say, "Well, we're considering it," you follow up with a two hour story about how you were so excited to get pregnant and you knew the second that this little one was conceived that he or she would be totally perfect in every way. 

1) I don't need the mental image of you and your husband/boyfriend/fling/whatever in the act of creation. Even with all of the dirty jokes that I make, I stop at the act of actually considering your private time. 

2) It really isn't any of your business. I know you're trying to help and be supportive, but you're not the one that starts getting fat the second that the universe decides that it's time. You're not the one who is already stock piling anxiety about how and when to let people know. And, let's be honest, I don't want you picturing me doing whatever I just pictured you doing. Ew. 

Instead, I respond with "No babies. Just puppies." It's not really a lie. It's just an omission of the possible future. Luckily, I doubt you're a soothsayer or mind reader, so I think I'm in the clear with that one. Rather than subject myself to that awkward and unrequested conversation, I steer clear of infantile human life forms. 

For the time being, at least. 

Writer's Block

I most certainly have writers block. Not the kind that gets me stuck on a blank page for days, but the kind that comes from a flu-induced haze. I've been on the couch since this morning. I did do some errands and some laundry. Oh, and some dishes. And I've watched almost a season of Gossip Girl. Hubs should be home soon to offer some TLC. I can't even come up with Twitter brilliance, and I'm usually so good at that. Very shortly, I am going to settle for passing out on the couch with GG in the background and a pup snuggled up next to me. It's basically all I've got left. 

Sorry Interwebz. It's just not my day. I'll be back with more scintillating pearls of wisdom as soon as I can. 

How much is too much?

Sometimes, I feel silly for struggling so much with all of this "stuff". I'm so happy with my life. Nothing should be a struggle at this point. It is, though. I had an incredible day with Little E today. We made huge progress on some behavioral things and it was nothing short of inspiring. I would do anything for that kid. Really. I think of how much I love him sometimes, and it seems totally unreal. He isn't my kid. I call him my nephew, but he isn't really. I mean, he is. No one will tell me otherwise. Biologically, however, we aren't close to related. My brother isn't married to his mother. He's not even really his stepfather. This is yet another circumstance where a law is not going to tell me what's real or not. Little E will be part of my life regardless what the marital status of his mother is to my brother. I love him that much.

It scares me, though. I mean, I sit here and ponder whether I want to make one of my own and go "Uh. How exactly am I supposed to love anyone else as much as I love him?" Then I think about what I know is true-- that you love your own kids in a way that you can't imagine until you have them. I know this is supposed to be an amazing thing, but it actually totally freaks me out. Where can this love possibly come from? What can it pour out of that I don't already have love bursting from for this existing tiny little man? I would drop everything and run to Little E's side if he needed me to. What is they both need me at the same time? What if he gets jealous? What if I give myself things to worry about that I have no control over until they're actually real?

Oh, right.