Now that my kids are older: The Boy is trying to become A MAN, so he's moved out into the cold, cruel world...not really, he just moved up north. He is definitely proving to be my child. He moved far enough so that we can't just drop in, but close enough for us to visit. The Brat...well, she's going to be a real-live, fire breathing TEENAGER this year. And although she still wants to hang out with me sometimes, more and more she & her friends are making plans for sushi and a movie. (Oh, to be in L.A.)
It seems like half the people I know are having babies. Sweet smelling, smiling, chubby cheeked BABIES. And every time I see one, my uterus contracts. And I think, I am still young(ish)! I could totally do that again.
And then I think of the PREGNANCY, the projectile vomiting, the ridiculous mood swings and the hips as big as Texas. But then, that's a small price to pay, right? After all the payoff is a living breathing version of you/your husband (my kids DON'T look like me. AT ALL), that you can
Umm...yeah. I want to have YOUR baby. Give 'em here. I'll play with them, babysit them, kiss their chubby little cheeks. Hell, I'll even change their diapers. Then I'll fill them full of junk food and send 'em home.
Just call me Aunt Lynnie.