I have baby fever. I’m sure of it. All the symptoms are there. I see babies and am full of warm tingly feelings, urges to hug, speak in babble and make funny faces. I waste my precious thoughts on meaningless things like global warming, the state of our country, and lately (shudder in horror) budgets, finance and saving for the “future”. I hear screaming terrors and instead of flashing dirty looks and fantasizing about tossing the offending child into the closest body of water, I am overcome with sympathy for the parents. I want to cook real meals that don’t come from a box, a microwave or a pimply teenager at my doorstep. I don’t want to actually clean, but there are urges to wake up to a meticulously clean house. I even walked by a Pottery Barn Kids and wanted to go inside. This is not ok.
I know, I know. Some of you are thinking – “this is God’s way of telling you it’s time” or, “your biological clock is telling you your eggs are ready” (I realize after typing that last phrase, the visual it conjures is slightly nauseating and disturbing at the same time – I am intentionally NOT deleting.) I might be tempted to agree, but these symptoms, well they come and go. Just when I am seeing teddy bears and soft pink rooms, I am overwhelmed with the crippling fear of sleepless nights, loss of freedom, sucking snot out of noses with blue bulbs, and a sweatpants to skinny jeans ratio tipping dangerously toward almost daily sweatpants wearing. (We have all seen it happen – so chic, so together, so cool and trendy…and then BAM sweatpants, ponytails and God-forbid scrunchies. If I am describing you – I hope your sweats are HardTail or LuLu, and as for the scrunchies…BURN THEM and any photo of you wearing them NOW! And don’t get me started on sweater sets – they are NOT date night wear and need to stay where they belong – on bodies in Nursing Homes)
I digress. The point is these feelings are situational. Like as Micah and I wander around Hoboken on the weekend hopping, running and diving out of the way of strollers EVERYWHERE, I have ‘the fever’. But, then there are days when I have a great audition, look exceptionally hot in skinny jeans and a fitted shirt, wake up at 11am and laze around selfishly, wander aimlessly around NYC with no agenda, no obligation, nothing dictating my activities…those are the times when I have NO symptoms whatsoever. So now what? Do I run a tally of baby fever to non baby fever days? Do I avoid baby fever-inducing environments until the feelings develop on their own? Do I submerge myself in baby-fever inducing environments until I feel I can support a human life without wanting to hurl a baby in the Hudson or leave my Bulldog Riley to babysit? (I actually think Riley would be an excellent baby-sitter)
I give up. I guess for now I will just feel like a hypochondriac who is convinced she is dying of Rocky-Mountain Spotted Fever…until I arrive at the doctor’s office and miraculously all symptoms dissipate faster than quiet time with a colicy baby.