My fertility disclaimer

Whoops!

It didn't dawn on me when I wrote my entry about Audrey's birthday that I was a bit misleading with that first sentence.

Here's my fertility disclaimer:

I am not pregnant, trying to get pregnant, wanting to get pregnant, or wishing I was pregnant.  No uterine twinges at the sights of newborns or spontaneous shopping at baby stores, no "what if" discussions (he'd have me committed, I guarantee it), no choosing the next name "just in case", no hoarding of gently used clothes/toys/swings "for the next time."  [I dutifully find moms-to-be that can use the stuff as soon as I am finished with it.  "No, really, you can have it.  No, don't offer to pay me, just take it out of my house, it takes up too much room."]  If someone hands me a baby, I ooh, ahh, coo, and hand'em back with nary a sigh.

While I do still practice the baby-making activity as much as I can, the making of one just isn't gonna happen. [Here's a tip, for you ladies out there who have men that just can't bring themselves to put their precious cargo under the knife:  Tell 'em how much more, um, enthusiasm and spontaneity you could display if you knew that there was no danger of an, ahm, 8 lb prize waiting at the end of your practice sessions.  See if that helps him put big Jim and the twins up onto the chopping block, lol.]  But for me, well....

MY SHOP IS CLOSED.  PERMANENTLY.

Now, back to your regular programming...