For a long time now I’ve been going back and forth about having another baby or officially closing down this factory.
So I sit down like a reasonable adult and make a list.
Reasons to have 17 more kids:
- Babies smell yummy.
- Babies are cute.
- You can dress babies up in ridiculous outfits and they can’t get pissed. Well, they can get pissed but they can’t do anything about it and you shouldn’t feel guilty for laughing at them.
- I really loved breastfeeding.
- Cassidy doesn’t fall for my Halloween candy tricks anymore! (See also: Zombie Baby Costume)
- Baby fat rolls.
Then I think about the fact that in about 3.5 years Ben and I will get to stop being legally responsible for anybody but ourselves and all that would mean and… I kind of can’t wait. For instance, I could implement a No Pants Rule in the house and if Cassidy doesn’t like it then she can move to her own fascist house where stupid pants are a requirement.
So I sit back down and make another list.
Reasons you really don’t ever want another child:
- After a few months you realize that babies actually smell like vomit and poop and sleep deprivation.
- Screaming babies are not cute.
- Kid clothes are expensive. And even though you own 75 onsies and 48 pairs of baby leg warmers and 93 bibs, you can’t walk in the door of a Target without “accidentally” walking down the baby isle and buying at least 2 more of each because you are an emotion hormonal nutcase and if your baby doesn’t have 1,249 pairs of socks you are depriving them and I JUST WANT TO BE A GOOD MOM STOP JUDGING ME!
- I really hated cracked nipples and my milk letting down in the restaurant when the baby across the room that has no relation to me whatsoever cried and now the two hours I put into looking good to go out on a date night has been ruined by the two basketball sized milk stains on my shirt.
- I’m an adult! I don’t need stupid kids for Halloween candy! I can buy candy whenever the fuck I want! Also: This year I think I’ll buy my normal amount of Halloween candy then just not answer the door when the kids knock. Instead, every time I get a knock, I’m going to eat another piece of candy while looking through the peephole at the faces of sad, candy deprived children. And I will smile. And there will be no guilt. Also: GET OFF MY LAWN
- Instead of having to clean baby fat rolls in a bath every day, I can soak in a bath MYSELF with a glass of wine and Kitchen Nightmare episodes on the iPad. And I won’t even have to put pants on afterward.
No matter how cute the fat rolls are, I am really REALLY looking forward to the No Pants Rule. And most importantly, I remember that cute little babies grow into slightly less cute toddlers, then slightly more pain in the ass kids and then eventually into somewhat intolerable teenagers.
So on April 11th, 19 day ago, I went and had the Mirena IUD inserted. This baby factory is closed, people. Also, I have been bleeding for 16 out of 19 days. But that’s another post for another day. It will go into how I’m pretty sure my cervix packed it’s bag and didn’t even bother to leave a note before walking out of my life forever. Because OMG PAIN.
I’m kind of surprised about how okay I am with this decision. And of course, there is always the option of having it removed if for some crazy reason I change my mind but I’m about 99.99999999999999999999999% sure that Cassidy is going to be an only child and in 3.5 years you should definitely call before you come over because there’s about a 100% chance I will not be wearing pants.