Hide Your Baby…..Please.

Every night my children pray to God that I will get pregnant.  With a boy.  Named David.

Let me just state for the record that, at this point in time, I am not interested in getting pregnant.  I’ve done it 3 times, and it was never easy for me.  There are women out there who say things like: “I love being pregnant!  It’s wonderful!  You can eat whatever you want and everyone tells you how beautiful you look and you just feel so magical knowing that there is a new life growing inside you…”

Congratulations.  Now please go suck it.  Here’s what pregnancy was like for me:

  • Non-stop puking for 36 weeks
  • Total exhaustion
  • Cankles so puffy they looked like they would burst if pricked with a needle or pointy stick.  (I strongly advise against poking crazy pregnant ladies with sharp objects.  They may react violently.)
  • Getting even more stupid as my body focused on growing a healthy baby rather than my ability to speak, read, or walk upright
  • Hair Trigger B*tch Syndrome
  • The urge to eat only disgusting things (fountain Cokes, Big Macs) while the thought or smell of healthy food made me involuntarily heave.
  • Fits of Unexplained Crying
  • Husband and children completely non-plussed by random vomiting or crying.  Also, completely unsympathetic to my plight.
  • The overwhelming fear that labor will progress from “Was that a contraction?” to the child falling out of my nether regions onto the floor in less than ten minutes.

This whole wishing for a new baby thing got out of hand last week when my husband told me he’d really appreciate it if I would start giving baby #4 some real consideration.  Then he said, “Go look at the kids, Lydia.  Aren’t they awesome?  Don’t you just want a million of them?

First of all, the kids were asleep when he said that.  So, of course they look awesome.  As any parent will tell you – they are at their awesomest while sleeping.  That was obviously some sort of trick.

But I do see his point.  They are pretty awesome.  I can’t seem to go a minute without thinking about them or checking to see if they’re OK or wanting to give ’em a smooch.  Sigh…  But let’s not get carried away.  I mean the little one still doesn’t sleep.  The big ones fight all the time.  And the mess…  Those kids are the tornadoes to my trailer park, leaving debris and filth in their wake that I’m required to clean up like I was frickin FEMA.  And honestly, all I seem to do is chase them around saying “Not in the electric socket!” and “That’s not cheese!” and “Stop slapping with your feet!” and “Where are your underpants?!”

I think of all the times that I’ve wondered if 4:00pm was too early for bedtime.  Or if it was bad that I let them watch three hours of Phinneas and Ferb because my nerves were shot and it seemed like a better idea than drinking Scotch at 9am.  I just think I really shouldn’t have any more kids.  I think I need to focus on not completely f*cking up the ones I already have.

But something keeps getting in the way.  Something that I can’t seem to avoid.  Always out there… Lurking… Waiting to entrap me…  You already know what it is, don’t you?  Other people’s tiny, little, sweet, newborn babies.  DAMN IT.  They are so cute.  With their little mewling cries like kittens and their tiny toes and the way the top of their heads smell when you kiss them…  They are not fighting fair.  How am I supposed to resist that smell?

There are four new baby boys at our church, and each one is so freaking cute I turn into a puddle if I have to look at them for more than 30 seconds.  Of course, my family always wants to sit near them so they can gaze upon the cuteness and watch as Mommy’s “I AM DONE” resolve starts crumbling.  But I really should not have any more kids, so I am begging you…

KEEP YOUR ADORABLE, PRECIOUS INFANTS THE HELL AWAY FROM ME.

I may get a shirt printed up because my husband claims that screaming the above statement at women with new babies is off-putting.  And also that I may be perceived as being potentially dangerous.  Well, that’s his opinion.  I actually think most people would understand.  Maybe I should add a small caveat just to new make sure I got my point across:

KEEP YOUR ADORABLE, PRECIOUS INFANTS THE HELL AWAY FROM ME.

Or I will get pregnant again and then I’ll be completely screwed.  Thank you for your cooperation.

So if you have a beautiful new baby, who is so cute that she brings people to their knees, and you see a harried-looking woman in yoga pants crossing the street to avoid you while making the sign of the cross, it is neither rudeness or craziness making her do it.  It’s birth control.

xo, Lydia

Also comes in pink and blue Also comes in pink and blue

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