Something’s missing.

I think God forgot to give me a biological clock. I have not heard one tick of the clock letting me know I want kids.  In fact, I think the clock is being wound in reverse.  The more time passes, the more I do NOT want kids.

People, I’m almost thirty and I don’t know how to change a diaper.  CLUELESS. 

At church I help my mom out in the nursery and when faced with a baby who needs a diaper change I’m suddenly thrown back to childhood, “MOMMMM, I need help.” The baby is passed off to her and she changes the diaper. 

Given the choice between looking at a book full of cute babies or cute puppies, I choose puppies.  Hands down. 

I get the creeps when a baby has wet hands from it’s own slobber and it gets on me.  I get grossed out when a baby smells like rotten formula or milk.  (No offense to anyone if I’ve held your baby. Or will be holding your baby.)

Everyone always says, “Oh it will be different when it’s your own.” No it won’t be.

Babies are gross. Babies are extremely high maintenance. Babies act like babies! Obviously I’m exaggerating a little bit.  But I’m just too selfish right now to even consider a baby. I love holding babies, for maybe thirty minutes. 

And no offense to anyone who’s ever had a baby or even has the audacity to like them.  That includes you mom.

I’m sure this phase will pass and someday when I’m at home with four babies and no dogs I’ll look back at this post and laugh. 

But, I doubt it. 

Besides, why would I want babies when I already have these two?

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