EA is pregnant. She announced it when we had lunch today (with the other EA, who is now married, and should be referred to from now on as EB, I suppose). This is the same EA who just had her bachelorette weekend at Tybee island. So if you’ve been keeping track: 1. she’s not married yet (the wedding is next weekend) and 2. she spent most of that weekend at Tybee drunk as a skunk. She’s not worried. She figures a lot of women end up drinking during the first few weeks of pregnancy, simply because they didn’t know. They’re thrilled, of course. They wanted to have kids right away, but thought it would take longer to conceive because of her endometriosis. So they stopped using condoms a few weeks ago, and that’s all it took.

(aside rant: am I the only woman left in the world who is on the pill???? I just can’t believe that you can be in a serious monogamous relationship for over a year, and still have to whip out the ole’ rubbers every time you want to have sex! EA had never in her life had sex without a condom before. And the first time she doesn’t use one, she gets pregnant. That blows my mind. The only time K and I have used condoms is when I’ve been on antibiotics. I just feel like I’m better in control with the pill, and it definitely feels better, for both of us! OK, back to original rant.)

EA is the second one of my friends to get pregnant. This is really weird for me. It’s hard enough coming to terms with all my friends getting married. That I can at least compete with (though K says every time I bring up engagement, I push it back three months. At this rate he won’t propose until 2027) But kids? Ew!

It’s not that I object to babies. They’re a necessary evil. I just have a hard time seeing myself with one. I lack the “baby gene” that most girls seem to have. When I’m with a group of people, and someone whips out a baby, all the women go nuts with the “cutesy coos” and “wook at her wittle fingews.” When it’s my turn, I usually mutter something like “hey there…kid. I like your…um…binky…whoa are ya crying? Time to go back to mommy!” I’m the same way with little kids. Now DOGS on the other hand, I go nuts with. That’s when I bring out the cutesy talk. I’m wired weird, that’s all.

Babies are nature’s way of spreading germs. Little kids are ALWAYS sick. And I’m always stuck behind some kid with the sniffles on an airplane.

K and I have talked about kids. The only thing we’ve managed to come up with is that neither of us are ready for a kid any time soon. Maybe one. Eventually. It is the ultimate genetics experiment, and I am a geneticist. Everyone tells me “it’s different when it’s your own.” Right.

First of all, if I have a girl, I’m going to turn her into a lesbian, I know it. (not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course!). I was shopping with my mom about 2 years ago when she was looking for a baby shower gift for the daughter of a friend. The daughter already had two boys, and she was pregnant again, this time with a girl. So she needed girly clothes. Every outfit I like turned out to be for boys. Why? Because of unfair baby clothing discrimination. Boy babies can wear any color: blue, yellow, green, purple. Girl babies can wear one color: pink. That’s it. Maybe white, as long as it has pink trim, or pink hearts, or kittens. That’s it. It’s discrimination, I tell you! I like the boy baby clothes much better. So if I ever have a baby girl, I’ll probably dress her like a boy. She’ll develop gender identity issues, resent me, grow a mullet, and become one of those mean lesbians that pick fights with biker guys. (my sincerest apologies to the lesbian community)

Any kid I have, whether it be boy or girl, is going to have problems. I just know it. I just have to look at the way I treat my dog. I love Sadie – she is the best dog ever. But I torture her every day. I’m a horrible mother. I tell her she’s a bad dog all the time, just because I love her response: her eyes get really big, her ears go down, her tail starts wagging furiously, and she tried to crawl up into my lap, as if to apologize for the nonexistent thing that she did wrong. Poor thing. But she loves me unconditionally. No matter how much I psychologically torture her, she will always love me. Because she’s a dog, and I’m the one with the can opener. She’s smart enough to know where the meals are coming from.

How much would I screw a kid of with that crap? And kids’ll hate you for it. They’ll get therapists and take you on Moury Povich and tell the whole world that you’re the reason they’ve turned into crack whores. And then they’ll make you get a makeover.

I’ve seen it happen.

So, I guess the point of this rant is that reproduction scares me. I am way too selfish right now to deal with a baby. But kudos to my friends who are breeding. I hope they have lots of kids, because they’re bright people. I once heard someone say that the reason that they have lots of kids is because they’re intelligent people. Intelligent people tend to not have that many kids, whereas stupid people breed like crazy. So unless intelligent people get with it, we’re going to be outbred by stupid people. And I guess that’s reason enough for me to pop a kid out…someday.