I’ve been so lost after having kids that it might be sad if it weren’t so damn funny. I never wanted children—yes, I was one of those. I suppose I felt like I had too much to do (be an award-winning novelist), and children seemed to take you on a detour I wasn’t confident you could get back from.
I still remember the discussion my husband and I had on my 35th birthday about having children.
Hubby: You still want that dog.
Me: Yes! But you said you wouldn’t walk it. Or feed it.
Hubby: Yeah. Well, I was thinking we should have a baby instead.
Me: You won’t take care of a dog, yet you want a baby?
Hubby: Well, you’re not getting any younger and research shows…
Me: Excuse me?!
Hubby: I mean, well, I’m not getting any younger either.
I don’t know how he saved himself from my boot, but looking back, that period in my life represents the last time I had any “real” clue what the hell I was doing.
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