A brief flirt with the "I want a baby" syndrome.

I got to see my new nephew for the first time last night. This was satisfying, because although I have one grandchild, I see her rarely. Then the baby, who I will call CJ even though I'm pretty sure his parents will hate it, threw up and all went home. I'd forgotten how cute, cuddly, and earnest babies are. I asked Husband if having a cute baby around made him wish we had one, and he replied, "I see lots of things that are cute, but that doesn't mean I want them in my house". Good point. I feel that way about ferets.

Now, before you accuse me of being anti-child, know that I have three children. I have my youngest (age 14) still at home, but he walks upright, feeds and burps himself. For this I am grateful. He's a good kid. I have a daughter, 18, who is currently trying to decided between the mental health industry or medicine. My oldest, a son is stationed at Ft. Bliss, and trying to decide what to do next. El Paso is also where my grandchild is. I don't think D-I-L cares for me much, so I don't get to see my granddaughter often.

It's amazing that I ever had children. I was practically an only child, with my sister being 9 years older. I don't share well, and I don't like people touching my stuff. (Come to that, it's amazing I'm a teacher: I have a giant office where 90 people tromp through daily and not only do they touch my stuff, but they wipe gum on it and throw trash on the floor. But I digress.) I was also looking around at how child-un-friendly my home it is. Lots of glass and things at floor level. Cats, who attack everything that moves. A baby would wreak havoc, and upset the cats. In 13 years a baby would start eating all my favorite cereal, telling me that I'm full of it and where to get off. I'm pretty sure at age 53 that is not what I want to hear. What I'd like to hear at age 53 is something like, "My grandma is so cool. She runs in triathlons, watches Southpark, and curses."

On a similar subject, I've been reviewing a book for potential clients about parenting a teenage girl. It's called, "When we're in public, pretend you don't know me".