So the Spawnling is sick again. Fever again. Cough again. Pulling at his ear again. The cold itself is pretty mild other than the Niagra Falls nose, but the rest of it makes me wonder if we're going to have to spend another lovely afternoon at the emergency clinic tomorrow.

Don't get me wrong: I love sharing space with people ill enough to want to share space in an emergency room with me. Who doesn't enjoy the germ melting pot? I also like to count how many times I visit the complimentary Purell dispenser. I get an addictive sting when the alcohol solution enters the cracked skin on my hands. I chant my mantra over and over: This is better than getting a stomach flu, this is better than getting a stomach flu, this is better than...

This week has been incredibly busy. My friend/client, or Frient, has had many ups and downs while attempting to successfully breastfeed her second child. Frayed nerves and plenty of coffee have been my companions as we've battled an iffy latch, jaundice, near hospitalization due to an infection in the cesarean wound, and in-laws who loathe the idea of breastfeeding and wish my Flient would just give up and bottle feed, already.

But you know what? She's still nursing. 9 days and counting! And the best part for yours truly (in the end it always comes down to yours truly)? I'm over my fourth baby fetish. Yep. Stick a fork in the tofu roast, people. I'm done. I personally thanked my Frient for this glorious turn of events. She said I was welcome.

It was a fun little pipe dream to birth a beautiful (quiet) baby (girl), but there just aren't enough positives to outweigh the vast chasm of negatives, be they potential risks or stark reality. The main one being that The Maven might want to have, oh, you know, semi-regular Maven time at some point in the next decade.

I've been re-living the baby thing on an average of every five years. What this means is that just as I'm starting to realize that people can shower every day, have hobbies, and enjoy sex for reasons other than procreation, I end up procreating. Mother nature greets me with a positive pregnancy test the impending smell of curdled spit up and a huge "gotcha again" grin on her face. Not this time, girlfriend.

There are advantages to letting my children grow up. For example: if I don't deal with the underlying issues surrounding my desire to pop out more and more babies and instead just let the boys get bigger and leave home, I can begin hoarding to fill up my empty nest like the lady on Oprah just recently. Then I can get my house decluttered and completely remodelled and score tickets to Chicago to tell millions to show off my new home. Maybe I can also meet Nate Burkus and convince him that he's not really gay and that he wants to run away with me. We could make beautiful rooms together.

Or, I can become unhealthily enmeshed in my adult children's lives, tying double knots on the apron strings and suffocating their desire to grow as individuals. Then, when they get married, I can one of those awful, overbearing mother-in-laws we all hear so much about. Eventually my son and his wife will bring me to Dr. Phil so he can tell me how wrong I am. Free trip to Los Angeles, nice hotel and all I have to do is be psychotic. I'm halfway there already!

Ok, seriously though. I'm done. For really real here. The Sister keeps laughing at me because she says I talk about it so much that I simply can't be done. That's not true. Sometimes I talk a lot about a book or a movie that I finished, but that doesn't mean I haven't finished it, right? Right.

I win. Neener neener.

In truth, there are some eerie things afoot in my life right now and I think they might be related to my decision not to spawn again:

1. I'm beginning to experience mornings where I'm able to open my eyes and not immediately dive for the coffee grinder and carafe. I believe this may be linked to a rare infliction in my life known as "uninterrupted sleep". It's not happening every night so I'm not freaking out just yet. I'm simply keeping an eye on it to see if it gets in the way of my exhaustion on a long-term basis.
2. Sometimes, during the day, I find myself with enough time to clean some of my house. And, if that's not strange enough, there are even times when I can sit down and watch a half-hour show without needing to get up. I know what you're thinking: how is this possible? What is this 'daytime television' and how can she claim to see any of it? It may have something to do with the gremlins... entertaining each other... and themselves... without my help. Did get that last part? Without my help.
   
3. I've gone out two nights in a row without my cell phone. Last night was to get coffee with a friend and tonight was my weekly shopping trip with my sister. Nothing out of the ordinary except that my cell phone was dead and Geekster couldn't call me if there was a problem. This would normally send me running for the charger but instead I... I... left it. Yeah. I left my cell phone at home. There was no need to bring it because he doesn't need me to be here. My husband can manage all three of them without me. I used to inevitably get calls from a hubby with a screaming, hungry nurseling and would have to promptly dash home. Not anymore. I might have to actually enjoy myself when I go out now. I don't know if I can handle that.

So, in short, I believe I may be able to get used to this strange and beautiful new existence. What will I miss about babies? A lot of things. What won't I miss? A lot of things. But I'm pretty damn lucky to have three healthy boys with a PCOS-inflicted body. And have you seen the price of groceries lately? I might have to have a fourth child just to work the fields.

Well, if we had fields. And then I'd probably want to work them at least a couple of hours every day just to be away from the yelling and the mess and the poop and everything. Working the fields could be my new hobby.

Must go. Spawnling's awake. Diving for coffee grinder tomorrow? Check.