oh, baby

anyone who's spent more than, say, an hour with me knows i'm baby-obsessed. as in, i must force myself into thinking about the things i want to accomplish before motherhood (career progression, solo time wit my man, travel to far-off lands, learn how to roast a chicken and keep my tub clean) or i'd "forget" to take my pill and "accidentally" get knocked upp-ed. it would make sense if this had just kicked in, being recently nuptialized and all, but nope, it's been this way for quite some time. (eighth grade methinks? i devoured episodes of a baby story on the couch while shoveling plates of spaghetti into my mouth. then wondered why my cheeks were chubby. but that's another story.)

today i caught up over the phone with a boston friend i haven't talked with in a year (two years?). after the obligatory small talk, we dished about former coworkers, weddings, and home ownership before my mouth, without a permission slip, blurted out:

so when are you having a baby?

what in the hell is wrong with me? it's a sickness, people, and i can't slow its spreading. even when i start out a conversation or a date or a day with the intention to stop talking about babies for the love of all that is good, i can't. i need a muzzle and medication.

when she launched into her reasons for abstaining from motherhood, probably forever, i felt even crazier. she was spouting the words of any red-blooded, ambition-driven, poster-girl-for-the feminists american woman (cue music) and my comeback was: "i think about gnawing on baby cheeks for 74% of my day." (6% being allotted to peanut butter, 15% the job search, and 5% how to beat rockband.)

and we wonder why most times i just stick to email...

i'm not entirely sure why,

but the following commercial fills me with unbridled rage:



in other news:

fingers are crossed for potential very-cool job situation.

we rearranged our living room for the...twelve thousandth time. i fight it tooth and nail, but it always turns out better than the last iteration. plus, i'm closer to the tv now.

i have a dentist appointment tomorrow. the only not-awful thing about this is i'm encouraged (read: forced) to take prescribed anti-anxiety meds. this prevents me instantly striking the fetal position and calling for my mom. you think i'm kidding.

afterwards, i have a date to watch the little mermaid with my same-birthday-gf. we realized this had to happen after spending much of our hawaii vacation serenading our men with "part of your world" from the back of the convertible.

i've taken to eating twizzlers in the middle of the night. this is an old habit i'm not interested in rekindling.