My beautiful, glorious, wonderful nephew is almost five months old. My sister-in-law is about to have a girl (can I get an Amen?!). And, one of my best friends just had a baby boy. After having two girls. Both under the age of three.
My advice to all: take two Xanax and call me in the morning. Actually, don't call me unless those kids are at mother's day out.
My advice to all: take two Xanax and call me in the morning. Actually, don't call me unless those kids are at mother's day out.
So, I had kind of, sort of, baby steps (no pun intended) starting talking myself into getting pregola. My timeline was this spring. Now that it's mid-February and almost spring, I think I'm going to stick to not getting pregnant. I am really good at it afterall.
If my Mimi was still alive, she'd make some comment about how she told me to wait to have kids, but this was an all-time record, how my eggs were getting old, and how you have to hold onto your man like cabbage. My sister and I could never figure out what the whole cabbage thing meant. As you have learned, Mimi was buried with a hand-held video poker machine, so I'm not sure what that says about her judgment. Or ours.
If my Mimi was still alive, she'd make some comment about how she told me to wait to have kids, but this was an all-time record, how my eggs were getting old, and how you have to hold onto your man like cabbage. My sister and I could never figure out what the whole cabbage thing meant. As you have learned, Mimi was buried with a hand-held video poker machine, so I'm not sure what that says about her judgment. Or ours.
Not wanting to have a baby really boils down to three things: 1) I work really hard at not getting fat (why would you want to get fat on purpose?); 2) I want to drink wine when I go on vacation (read every night); and 3) My dog Whiskey has decided that she doesn't like babies.
The first two are selfishly self explanatory. As for the third, it's not so much that the Whisk doesn't like babies--she is a poo and puke lover afterall--it's the fact that she doesn't like them once they can touch her.
Over Christmas, she snapped at Bart's cousin's toddler. Twice. Zoinks.
You really can't blame her though. She's loud, slobbery, clumsy, and snotty. And, Whiskey really just doesn't care for those traits.
Over Christmas, she snapped at Bart's cousin's toddler. Twice. Zoinks.
You really can't blame her though. She's loud, slobbery, clumsy, and snotty. And, Whiskey really just doesn't care for those traits.
When I was little, my parents had a dog named Chocolate. He was a cross between a dachshund and a poodle. The meanest SOB you've ever seen. He attacked me every time I tried to get down out of my highchair. One time, he bit my finger so hard that it turned blue.
The only way my dad could punish him for attacking his kids, was to beat him with a 2x4. Shoot, dad wasn't about to get close enough to get bitten by that psycho.
Did my mom get rid of the dog? Nope. Never. That a-hole lived to be a ripe 'ole 17. Even after eating two chocolate Easter bunnies and two Omaha steaks (including the Styrofoam packaging that they came in).
Yep, that's 119 loooong dog years of freaking out cute little kids. Plus, he got me in trouble once. When I was 5, I told my Grandmother that she and Chocolate looked alike. It was the hair. Grey-ish, brown-ish, blah-ish, frizzy-ish, poofy-ish and bad perm-ish. Grandmother didn't take it as a compliment.
Fortunately, around age 16 (112), Chocolate finally got too old to put up a fight and would just growl at me while I petted him.
If you're thinking that my mom was a bad mom, that's fine. Call me one too, because if Whiskey bit my kid, I wouldn't give her away--instead of giving my child away, I would advise her to leave the sweet dog alone. It works with bees, right...don't bother the bee and it won't bother you...
I'm someone that honestly doesn't think that I will love a child more than my dog. I mean, a lot of the time, I love Whiskey more than my husband. It's ok, they both know it's true. The only time that I don't love Whiskey is when I see her take a poo in the backyard, then immediately turn around and stark snacking on it. I guess dogs don't get the whole, "it tastes like shit" thing.
For a long time, I honestly wanted to give birth to puppies. I've since grown up, and have come to realize that multiples really aren't my deal.
Today I vow to you that whenever I do decide to have a child, I will tell you whether I love it as much as Whiskey. And if I don't, I will lie. Right through my teeth.
The only way my dad could punish him for attacking his kids, was to beat him with a 2x4. Shoot, dad wasn't about to get close enough to get bitten by that psycho.
Did my mom get rid of the dog? Nope. Never. That a-hole lived to be a ripe 'ole 17. Even after eating two chocolate Easter bunnies and two Omaha steaks (including the Styrofoam packaging that they came in).
Yep, that's 119 loooong dog years of freaking out cute little kids. Plus, he got me in trouble once. When I was 5, I told my Grandmother that she and Chocolate looked alike. It was the hair. Grey-ish, brown-ish, blah-ish, frizzy-ish, poofy-ish and bad perm-ish. Grandmother didn't take it as a compliment.
Fortunately, around age 16 (112), Chocolate finally got too old to put up a fight and would just growl at me while I petted him.
If you're thinking that my mom was a bad mom, that's fine. Call me one too, because if Whiskey bit my kid, I wouldn't give her away--instead of giving my child away, I would advise her to leave the sweet dog alone. It works with bees, right...don't bother the bee and it won't bother you...
I'm someone that honestly doesn't think that I will love a child more than my dog. I mean, a lot of the time, I love Whiskey more than my husband. It's ok, they both know it's true. The only time that I don't love Whiskey is when I see her take a poo in the backyard, then immediately turn around and stark snacking on it. I guess dogs don't get the whole, "it tastes like shit" thing.
For a long time, I honestly wanted to give birth to puppies. I've since grown up, and have come to realize that multiples really aren't my deal.
Today I vow to you that whenever I do decide to have a child, I will tell you whether I love it as much as Whiskey. And if I don't, I will lie. Right through my teeth.
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