My Biological Clock.

I had dream that I had a baby. He had a teeny little face and a blue blanket. I believe he was blonde like his daddy. I called him Jonah. I fed him and changed him and jiggled him around on my hip. Then I went to Target. That could have been a separate dream. But when I woke up, I had this ache. Like I was missing a limb. I realized that I missed this fictional baby.

I want kids. Lots of them. I have six names full names picked and five seems to be the number we’re shooting for. The nursery will be Monty Python themed with a giant foot hovering above the crib. The mobile will be killer rabbits and lumberjacks. That creepy God puppet will be situated in a corner near the ceiling. Babies on the street illicit an involuntary “awwwww”. Crying babies make my uterus ache. Jason and I watched “Monsters Inc” one night, and Boo crying made me cry. Out and out sobbing over this big eyed Pixar character. I just a baby, nay, a family, so badly I grimace as I take my nightly pill. Each month when PMS rolls around I tell Jason “My body is mad at me for wasting a perfectly good egg! The following craziness is our punishment.”

Missing the fictitious Jonah is crazy. But what’s utterly and completely bonkers, is that I know who he is. I know he’ll be a little too serious and preoccupied with how things work. He’ll be happiest when he get’s to fiddle with things, take them apart and see all the stuff inside. But he’ll have an easy smile and take his role of oldest child and big brother like a calling.  Jason can only laugh at me and my mother warns me not to get too attached to people who aren’t here yet (serves her right, she started begging for grandchildren last Christmas). But do I listen? Noooooo.

Feminism forgive me, but I think being a mother and running a household  will be the most fun, challenging, awe inspiring, and rewarding job I ever have. I would absolutely give up the career track for it because at the end of the day, stick with what you’re good at. I’m good at telling people what to do and cleaning up gross stuff. Sounds like a mom to me.

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