I guess by some standards, I started early.
Three kids by the time I reached 28 and I was done having babies (What? We live in Ohio, it’s boring in the winter). So much so, that we sealed the deal with the champagne bottle to the boat of contraception, a shiny new vasectomy.
But, while we reached that phase of our lives, our friends were just getting started. Which means? Babies. So many babies.
At first, it was like, ugh, they smelled so good, y’all. They were soft and shiny and they giggled when I talked to them, not, like, rolled their eyes all, mooommmmm stopppp Godddddddd.
Babies love me. They’re cool just sitting there snuggling with me, they don’t care what I watch on television, and I don’t have to share my candy with them.
A vasectomy, Andy? What were we thinking, we’ve made a grave mistake.
Um, no we haven’t. We’re done having kids. Besides, you hated babies.
What? I did not! I love babies, and they adore me!
No way, the infant stage was horrible, and you complained the entire time. You just think you want babies because you get to see the cute side of them when your friends bring them over. You don’t see the bad stuff.
When I sat there and thought about it, he was right. I had to learn to cope.
Operation Ovary Chill Out, commence.