Posts Tagged "biological clock"
The countdown to my inevitable impregnation has been terminated!
And I have Row 24 of my 4 hour and 50 minute US Airways flight to Phoenix to thank.
You know how they say one person can change the course of your life? In this case, it was three.
The flight got off to a rip-roaring start with two of the loudest most obnoxious children who have ever existed and their ineffective mother. To those of you who are immediately judging me because I don’t have kids of my own and I don’t know the struggle of traveling with not one but two children, just hold tight to your judgment hats for a minute.
These kids were so terrible that the sweet grandma of 6 sitting next to me began swearing like a sailor stating, accurately, “this fucking kid has diarrhea of the mouth” and “someone needs to shut this kid up”. “WHAT IS THIS FUCKING MOTHER DOING??!?!?!”
After the precious cargo of Row 24 screamed, cried and kicked the seats in front of them for 2 hours, we were met with a moment of silence.
The entire plane took a collective sigh of relief.
And then the potent scent of pure feces hit each and every one of us like a silent bomb.
The mother had proceeded to change a HEAVILY violated diaper. She should reconsider whatever she is feeding this child. Right in the comfort of her own seat she chose to share the wonderful fruits of her child’s anus with the rest of the airplane passengers. Age of the diaper-clad child: 3.
Even the flight attendants were rustled out of their quarters to make sure they didn’t have a cleanup nightmare on their hands. As the flight attendant returned to her post she nodded to the other attendants mouthing the words, “Yup, poop.”
WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK IT WAS? Thanks for the poop scoop Sherlock.
Post-diaper drama, the wailing and general melee that was row 24 resumed.
Kid, how can you possibly cry every two minutes?? You’re barely 3 years old! You have absolutely zero responsibility. You are not even responsible for wiping your own ass—a skill that should be instilled in you at a very young age. Like as soon as you can form a grip, THAT’S when you should start wiping yourself.
What? You’re unhappy because you didn’t get the color of Fruit by the Foot that you wanted? Welcome to life kid. From here on out, you will be CONSTANTLY disappointed. Especially when you find out you have to wipe up your own nuclear poops one day.
I understand children can be difficult. I have had to babysit, tutor and work as a behavioral therapist to some of the MOST difficult children on the planet. But it doesn’t mean I have to make one myself.
After this flight, I will continue to enjoy my right to walk away from screaming and pooping any chance I get. This is a right I will not be able to enjoy once I have puppies of my own.
So for now, I put my uterus on hold…until some other ridiculous cute immaculately well behaved human baby comes my way again.Read More
It was a normal chaotic Ukrainian Christmas, like my family always does; lots of stress, yelling and meticulous prep for one night of food and presents.
My brother and sister-in-law came over with their brood of three rambunctious boys. Usually, I do my best to get the boys hyped up on sugar and make them as unreasonable as I can as payback for all the times my brother farted on my chest as a child. He also told me I was going to turn into a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, which you might think sounds awesome, but he convinced me I would have to move to the sewers with the rest of my species, where I will be accepted. Not awesome when I was 5.
This time was different. Maybe the boys missed me, maybe they are becoming better human beings, but for some reason they made me think about having kids. Like now.
Every “superman” hug they gave me where they tried to squeeze the life out of me, every moment they decided to be monkeys and not let go of my leg “trees”, every nonsensical sentence they crafted when they tried to explain the rules of some game they were CLEARLY making up as they went made my heart swell more and more. By the end of the night I actually turned to my husband and said “Put your babies inside me.”
I actually had the urge to sneak at least one of my nephews onto the plane with me back to NYC. My brother won’t miss one; he’s got two more.
I though that this was an isolated incident but then it happened again.
At work over New Year’s where I’m usually reminded of how much I hate people, I had the privilege of meeting the most ATROCIOUSLY cute immaculately well behaved human 3 year old. An age that previously made me want to shut down my baby factory for good, suddenly made my uterus swell with joy. I could feel the eggs multiplying inside me. The whole conception section of my body was screamin’ for some semen.
It’s the first time in my life I actually contemplated kidnapping a child. If you want to argue that sneaking my nephew on a plane constitutes kidnapping—my brother was going to ask for him back at some point.
This kid, I had NO plans of returning.
Luckily I was in heels so that made escape with this child impossible. But if I had some J’s on my feet…
Here are pictures of babies I would like to take and keep for an eternity of cuddles.
This sappy moment was brought to you by my influx of estrogen.Read More