on babies.

We have been talking about babies a lot recently. Believe me, neither one of us have baby fever. What we have is a baby spreadsheet. As a woman, I have an expiration date for that portion of my body. It just so happens to be in the next five years. This past year has been a blur. So for the first time ever, I am making a conscious five year plan. Because apparently babies take 9 months to cook through. So I have to subtract 9 months from my 5 year plan to make this work.

I hesitate to tell anyone in my life I’m thinking about babies because it’s always met with the same positive barrage of questions. Are you pregnant? Are you trying? How many do you want? Just once, I’d like for someone to respond “why do you want one?” I feel like the true test of whether someone is ready is confidently answering why they want one.

To fulfill your life? Yikes, you should probably try to find contentment prior to creating a human.

To make your husband stay? No comment.

Because you’re so full of love you don’t know what to do with it? DING DING DING. 

That’s where I’m at right now. 

Of course, we have stressful and sad moments. But in general, my marriage is strong and we are incredibly happy with each other and our lives. Instead of thinking how stressful it is to pack a kid to take with you to travel, we think how fun it would be to see the world through fresh eyes. Instead of already being annoyed at the thought of arguing with a toddler, we see the potential to raise a truly great human being. So maybe we want a kid.

But it doesn’t mean it’s confirmed.

Because you guys. Kids are expensive. And I am a fan of living within my means. If all Hell breaks loose and we both lost our jobs, we sell the house to pay off all debt and start fresh in a cheaper city. Layla can be left alone at home while we both work. But with a kid? Things change. If we’re both jobless, only one parent can work to make ends meet. The other has to stay with the kid or make enough to afford a sitter. Basically, a comfortable life with a child means we have to maintain our level of income. Which isn’t difficult. I know the chances of both of us getting fired is very slim. But this is why my life never reaches shithole level status. I have a contingency plan.

But a child depends on you.

Yikes.

Sincerely, Tania