I am not going to preface this post because that will just be plain stupid. Prefacing means I am “hedging.” It also says to you the reader, “Hi, this is what I am thinking about right now but, like, don’t think of me as any less of a person or something…I mean, this is what I’m THINKING. I wouldn’t actually DO it. Not now…I mean, you know what I mean. RIGHT?” And then you the reader will read this and, in your head, say, “What in the world is she talking about? She’s crazy.”
I want babies. Now.
There. I said it. That is my confession.
What the fuck? I know, I know. It’s like this came out of nowhere. But, man, the clock is tick ticking away. I probably just scared all the dudes (Are there any dudes who read this? Unveil yourselves. E-mail me. I would like some male perspective. We’ll chat. But not in “that way.” I don’t do Internet dating. I like to meet people in person. I guess I’m conservative like that). Whatever. I think I could be okay being a single mom. Of course, I say that now. But I’d like to think that I could rock the whole Angelina Jolie pre-Brad Pitt thing. Get it, girl.
But back to babies. I see glowing pregnant ladies showing off their baby bumps or parents buying ice cream for their kids and, instantly, some switch goes off in my head.
My new favorite celebrity blog site is Celebrity Baby Blog. That’s some fucked up shit if you ask me. Think about it. A BLOG DEDICATED TO CELEBRITY BABIES and their parents sorta kinda. But mostly to celebrity babies. Celebrity babies did not ask to be celebrities. So why are we fascinated with them? Really, the paparazzi know what’s up. They snaps pictures of celebrity kids like no other because they know people (see: sickos like me) eat that shit up and lick the bottom of the bowl like nobody’s business. The paps hound the kids, scare them from behind bushes, behind cars…It’s sad, really. But I can’t think about that because, hell, that candid picture of Matilda and Michelle Williams in New York City is incredibly cute.
By far my favorite pictures are of the Jolie-Pitts. Hands down. No questions asked. Have you seen them? If you haven’t, who are you? Where have you been? Clearly, you are out of the loop. This past week, there were photos posted on numerous celebrity blog sites of Angelina and Brad dropping Maddox off to school and picking him up in the afternoons. It became a sort of “Maddox School Watch.” I can’t imagine what it must be like to be that kid. He’s a rock star. Literally. After two days of school, Mama Angie and Papa Pitt picked Maddox up, scooped up the rest of the kids, and then drove off to the airport to be flown somewhere in the world. Crazy.
Every time I see pictures of the Jolie-Pitt children, there is a very strong urge for me to either a) procreate or b) adopt. When I see Brad Pitt cradling Zahara in his arms or Angelina putting pet food in Shiloh’s hands so Shiloh can feed the goats, my woman hormones go into overdrive. I imagine myself several or some years from now, smiling from ear to ear, my burgeoning belly being shown off underneath a very cute top and jeans with flats, maybe flip flops. But I’m thinking flats. My hair is pulled back into a loose bun or ponytail to reveal a pair of simple hoop earrings. Seriously, glowing pregnant women are the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Every pregnant woman who is truly happy to be pregnant cannot help but exude some otherworldly beauty that is beyond me.
One of my friends is almost into her sixth month and she looks gorgeous. Her skin is spotless and, aside from looks, talking to her about what it’s like to have this baby inside her – what she feels, how she has to massage her belly sometimes so she can get the baby to move in a certain position cos, dammit, she can’t sit properly, or how insane it was the first time she felt the baby kick – has been the most interesting, fascinating thing. She’s my age and I have nothing but respect for her. I try to imagine what’s going on inside her belly and it’s a whole other realm. When I talk to her I feel like such a kid. She seems so calm and at ease. It’s like being in the presence of Mother Earth or something.
A couple days ago my roommate said she could see me having a family much like the Wild Thornberrys. That would be the dream life…
But, seriously, what am I talking about? Who have I become? I was never like this. Never! If you can believe it, this out-of-school life has made me some kind of self-proclaimed domestic goddess. I ENJOY cleaning, cooking, and baking. Gotta get all the corners. Gotta Windex the glass table. I think I’ll make a mango salsa salad with halibut tonight. Hmm, let me bake some chocolate chip cookies. I watch the news with Brian Williams once 7 o’ clock hits. I love going to the Container Store and Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Buying storage is incredibly therapeutic for me. My dream is to have my very own Kitchen Aid mixer with assorted attachments. How awesome would it be to make my own pasta?
See what this baby business does to me? It makes me think about stuff I should not be thinking about right now. I should be going out every night, reveling in this “young professional” life. Well, first off, let me tell you how much I’m over this happy hour thing. It gets incredibly old incredibly fast. And I feel that’s the only thing people my age here in D.C. actually look forward to come 5 o’ clock.
Don’t worry, I won’t be making any babies soon. Aw, hell naw. I’m locking this shit up for the time being. But if you’ve got children I could babysit, I’d be more than glad to help a friend out.