First, to answer the question “Where the heck have you been?” I’ll just say – I’ve been trying to get my poop in a group. I even purchased a book about getting organized in a year – which has been great so far, though I’m a few weeks behind. But I digress – there’s something more important to discuss.
- First, out of 4 women on my husband’s side of the family, I am the only one NOT pregnant.
- Second, I just found out my second set of in-laws (my sister’s husband’s family) are expecting their first bouncing baby.
- Third, my baby shower and first birthday party invites are officially outnumbering wedding invites.
- Fourth, roughly 84.2% of my Facebook friends are, according to their profile pictures, eight months old.
- Hence, I clearly must resign myself to the fact that this is coming for me soon.
But, then I remember I’m 23. I haven’t traveled as much as I want to. I haven’t really traveled much at all. Plus, I’m the breadwinner, and I can’t really win bread while filling bottles. Just saying. As badly as that baby bug persists in biting, these are a few of the reasons I’m not attempting to grow a human right now.
Here are 3 others:
I can’t even afford to decorate my house the way I want to. What happens when a child comes along and decorates it for me?
Let me go on the record saying that I understand I may eat the words I’m about to say. my husband and I agree that “less is more” when it comes to children’s toys, and I’ve determined that my house won’t look like a Walmart toy aisle threw up inside it. All you parents are shaking your heads at me, but I believe there has GOT to be a way. For the sake of my sanity, I must find a way.
So I did a little Google search, and found that there are tried and true methods to keep this to a minimum. This article by the Organizing Junkie, for instance, stressed the importance of not giving kids access to ALL toys, ALL the time. I even read that Michelle Duggar rotates the children’s toys, and each time a toy gets pulled out of rotation, it seems new and exciting again. My aunt kept her childrens’ toy number in check by insisting that for every new toy they get (not as a gift), one must be given away to a child in need.
I have hope.
Mainly, the ones that go in an upward direction.
It’s no secret to my friends and family that I cannot bear the sound of retching. I can’t do it. I’m a grown adult who will curl into fetal position and place my hands over my ears if I hear so much as a gag. All of the reasoning in the world can’t stop me from feeling a true sense of terror when I hear…that. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. I have no idea how to cope with children who will likely be *almost* as terrified as me when they are sick.
My husband can do puke duty if I’ll do cleanup. I can handle cleanup. The only problem is, there will surely come a time when I’ll be left alone with my…biggest fear. So, for that, I can only hope that by the time they are big enough to do such disgusting things, I will have been slightly broken in by all of the other nastiness they have wrought upon me.
If I ever take my child to McDonald’s, I will probably regret it for the rest of my life.
We’ve been living happily without cable for nearly 4 years and love being free from the constant bombardment of advertisements (sort of ironic that I’m in Marketing). We’re both pretty sure that those advertisements work pretty well on children, and they’ll be wanting all sorts of things they don’t need – but unlike us, they won’t be able to silence that little voice that says “you need this piece of crap.”
We can keep the TV advertisements at bay, but we can’t keep everything away. We will probably, at some point, drive through the McDonald’s parking lot, and they will be hooked. Hooked! And will only ask for that at mealtimes. It’s a proven scientific fact (maybe) that children are attracted to McEverything inside that building with the golden arches. Can I handle the incessant whining for McCrack?
Option 1: Dont go to McDonald’s, ever. We don’t go often as it is, but isn’t it a bit extreme to shun it entirely? I think I prefer…
Option 2: Teach our children moderation by going very, very, rarely. And hope against all hope that they won’t demand it every day.
Option 2b: Teach out children that for every time they ask for McCrack, they will have to run two laps around the…the…earth.
Will I get over these fears? Or will the desire for little bundles of joy supersede the bundles of toys, vomit, and french fries freakishly preserved in the couch cushions for decades? Perhaps there’s a reason why everyone else is having children, and we’re playing hide and seek at 3am on a Saturday morning.