So it's no secret around here I had a baby four months ago (or was it five - who can keep up?) which means I'm getting plenty of sleep, lost all the weight and have an adorable, non-mobile baby. It's the sweet spot. So sweet, in fact, my crazy brain wants another one. (You: how many damn kids are you going to have lady?) Hey, I'm on a roll. Babies are like tattoos and brownies, the more you have, the more you want!
This sweet spot will surely fade. Soon she'll be getting into things and stinking up the place with real food poops. Eventually these little people I created will be large and in need of tuition, maybe wrecking cars and needing bail. Then I'll be bolting myself in my room with as many tattoos and brownies as I can hoard while high-fiving the mister that we didn't give in to the weakness for babies that created that Duggar woman and Octomom. I mean, they are great and the cloud I'm on makes me want ten, but it's not realistic.
So instead of getting knocked up again, let's talk about the things I can look forward to when my kids are done being babies.
1. Drinking, staying out late. I plan to have a second teenagerhood as soon as these kids learn to babysit themselves. How old do they have to be to order pizza and not kill each other? (Note to self: find this out.)
2. Have nice things. My kitchen chairs are covered in Sharpie, Niko's Archie Bunker chair got attacked with a stray screwdriver, my brilliant new coffee table has matchbox car tracks all over it and we haven't unraveled a roll of toilet paper in the intended way since 2009. When these kids are properly molded to society's expectations (that happens, right?) I can start setting out potpourri. POTPOURRI. Maybe even the kind you cook in a little unattended pot on a low table. Dreams. Have them.
3. Get rid of crap. Walkers, bouncers, bumpers, cribs, devices to spy, devices to extract milk out of my body - good God, do you know what it would feel like to just dump all this knickknackery into the street and dance? Like freedom, that's what. Then I can fill up my rooms with . . . bonzai trees? I always wanted one of those. The point is it will not be a flashing, battery-operated plastic thing that makes noise.
4. Hotness. Milfness. Giant botox needles injecting poison into my youthful-seeming head. A tummy tuck to rival a tenor drum. Spray tans, pedicures (what else is the school day for, right?) and best of all, non-lactating breasts. Come on, 2013.
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