If you’ve been reading my posts for awhile, you know that the very loose premise of this blog is that I’m trying to enjoy and document what might be my last few childless years. According to my “life plan,” I’m getting pregnant at 30, which means I only have a couple years to start liking babies and come to terms with the gruesome realities of pregnancy.

I know that most of what I post on this blog is actually not baby-related. It’s a loose premise, remember?

Also, I’m naturally inclined to write about the things that are currently on my mind. Believe it or not, I’m pretty much never thinking about babies.

I think about ways that I can get Gatsby to wear a little dog sweater about 20 times more often than I think about babies, if that gives you any indication of what is presently concerning me. (He freezes up and won’t move as soon as I put a sweater on him, making it impossible to take him for walks once the temperature dips below 50 degrees! He doesn’t understand it’s for his own good – stubborn (adorable) little bastard.)

But even though babies are on my mind about as much as the MLB playoffs (read: 0% of the time), I thought I would give you an update on my progress as far as warming up to the idea of having a kid goes.

If the end goal is being ready to have a baby, I have made approximately ZERO progress since I first started this blog.

In fact, I may have even regressed in the other direction and am now even less ready to get pregnant than I was 8 months ago.

This is not how I predicted or hoped this would go. I do want kids, after all. I just want them later.

I thought that once some of my friends got pregnant and had babies, I would see how wonderful it is and would want to have one too. So far, this hasn’t happened.

I will say that I’ve recently developed a fondness for the spawns of my friends. I’m even finding them to be slightly cute. I’m starting to appreciate how cool it is to hang out with little humans that were created by people I love and witness my friends assuming the role of “mommy.” I’m also really starting to appreciate the fact that I’m not them.

More and more, I’m enjoying the freedoms of a childless life. I’m enjoying going on weekend trips, hanging out at wine bars for extended periods of time, and just being married. Let’s face it – it’s pretty awesome NOT having stretch marks, NOT breast feeding, NOT smelling like poop and spit-up and NOT spending money on things that keep a baby alive.

If things continue at this rate, maybe 30 won’t be the magic age when I’m willing to surrender my uterus and my life to a baby after all.

NOTE TO MY EGGS: I know you’re going to start dying soon, but I can’t bring myself to put you to good use while I’m still not able to control my gag reflex at the sight of a drooling child with baby food up its nose. Hang in there, ladies.