What is it about another person’s baby that makes a single woman’s uterus burn with desire? Could it be knowing you don’t have to change the diapers? The cold, hard proof that its mother is getting more action than you are? The thrilling danger associated with stealing it in the night and raising it as your own? (Kidding… kind of)
I am visiting a sweet little newborn tonight – one of the many my friends all seem to be having right now. Yes, my facebook feed is caught in a raging baby boom. Some of the babies are cute as hell.. others not so much. Let’s be honest- some newborns look like tiny aliens. It’s just a fact.
No matter how sci-fi, I want them all. I want their tiny hands and feet on my fingers. I want to coo in their chubby little faces. I want to tawk wike dis, oh yes I dew!
The female instinct mystifies me. It is only the most unstable, horrifying times in my life when I want a baby. It’s okay that I have no prospect of a positive male role model for a child to look up to… I could take care of it myself, right? It could just hang out with the dogs while I’m at work all day. They like kids…
I have to wonder if somewhere in the female brain, babies are the default fix-it. The cure-all for depression, anxiety, heartache, and boredom. Isn’t that why Nicole Ritchie keeps having them?
No matter how much I love tiny little people and would love making them gourmet baby food with this, I think I will stick to the dogs for another
five ten years. I place far too much value on free time, sleep, and alcohol at this point in my life to be a suitable mother. Besides, can you imagine what kind of a father the men I have been seeing lately would make?
Yes, it’s best to wait… best to wait.