I think it's fairly obvious that I'm off my rocker for wanting to spawn a fourth gremlin. Geekster is loving the comments from my last post (who knew I had 10 readers?!) and agrees with about half of you - the half that are sensible and think three is enough. I, on the other hand, am cheering for the crazies among you who support my inexplicable desire to have a new baby around.

Another recent thought on the positive side of pro-creating: Think of all the weight I'll lose if I have morning sickness again! It's the best diet ever.

My "problem" hasn't gotten any better due to recent events. A good friend of mine gave birth yesterday morning to a beautiful little girl (pictured above) as I paced the hospital waiting room eager for my chance to snuggle a newborn. Snuggle I did, as well as assist with breastfeeding. The life of a postpartum doula is filled with scrunchy little babies. It's not easy to turn that maternal switch off when you do what I do. I'll be 60 and poking holes in condoms at this rate. *sigh*

Then there was this morning which made me realize that my "baby" is not all that babyish anymore:



Me: "Good morning, Spawnling! Do you want to get dressed?"

Spawnling: "Whore."

Me: "... What now?"

Spawnling: "Whore."

Me: "Um...Ok. I'm hearing things. Ha ha. Anyway, do you want some food?"

Spawnling: "Whore."

Me: "Interesting new word, Spawnling. Neat. Let's test it out. What's that outside?" I point to a bird.

Spawnling, also pointing to the bird: "Whore!"

And thus went the morning. Every time my verbally sweet little toddler didn't know the word, he would tell me I was a whore.

This is still going on. The playdough I just gave him? It's a whore. The crackers on his plate? That's right: Whores. The Baby Einstein video we watched earlier? Full of whores.

Thankfully when my friend came over with her baby Spawnling did not point at the cute little purple-clad infant and call her a lady of the night. He said 'baby'. Phew. There is a God who has blessed my son with social graces.

Intrepid is home for his third straight sick day. He started with a cold and quickly moved into Feverland. Now he's no longer feverish, just argumentative with Gutsy (a sign that he's on the mend). They've been fighting most of the day, threatening not to play with each other anymore and seeing who can scream the loudest. I threatened to take away the television and computer if I heard any more screaming, which seems to have worked. They're quietly fighting over playdough now. That's nice of them.

The great thing about my life is that the children I have counterbalance the babies my friends are having that I sometimes think I want to have. Every ounce of mothering capability is easily stretched to the limit on days like today.

Must go. Spawnling just came in with a pen (you know what he just called it). I must go see what he and his whore have been doing to the walls...