I’m getting that old feeling again–not a feeling so much as a nagging thought.  I’m going to have another baby.  No, I’m not pregnant, but I have this nagging thought that I’m going to be soon.  No, I’m not trying to get pregnant.  No, I’m not going to give out any more information.  I’m just having that same nagging thought I got fourteen months before Elvis was born:  I’m going to have another baby.  Like I said, it’s a thought, not a feeling.  The feeling is more like, “Ack!  Are you crazy?  I can’t have another baby!  Ack!  Stop it!  Stop talking!  I’m not listening I’m not listening Lalalalalala…”  Or maybe it’s the other way around.  It’s hard to tell the difference between my thoughts and my feelings, since one isn’t usually any more rational than the other.

So last time I listened to my thought/feeling and fourteen months later I had a baby and immediately thought, “What have I done?”  But after a few days I got used to him, and now I’m so glad he’s here it would make you vomit if I said more about it.  This time I am listening to my inner pragmatist, who keeps telling me, “Dude–you can’t get any of your kids to control their elimination urges 24/7.  Add a newborn to that mix and you’ll have to take out a second mortgage just to pay for diapers.”  For some reason, my inner pragmatist calls me “Dude” lot.  Don’t ask me why.

The other thing my inner pragmatist says is, “Besides, if you had another baby, what on earth would you name him/her?”  And she has a point.  I can’t think of a single name I’d want to give Baby #4, male or female.  Certainly not one that both Sugar Daddy and I could agree on.  For example, I really like the name Harry for a boy.  I just think it’s cute.  But SD says we can never name a child Harry, and this is the reason he always gives:  “Just look at me!”  If the meaning of that sentence isn’t clear without a visual, let me just share with you the story about how his dorm mates during his freshman year of college nicknamed him “Hairy Mormon,” and while he was on his mission, his dorm mates sent him a letter addressed to “Hairy Mormon, Utah Ogden Mission,” and he got it.  No, he’s not some horrible beast, but you’d never see him in a Calvin Klein ad, that’s for sure.  Okay, maybe he’s a horrible beast.  No, I’m not posting pictures.  It is safe to keep reading.So there’s that.  I’m not going to talk about it anymore because it makes me uncomfortable.  If you’re wondering which part, well, let’s say all of it.  Moving on.

My tap class starts again tomorrow night.  I go to the doctor tomorrow morning so I can finally get this infernal plantar wart removed from my left foot.   I wonder if I will dance better or worse than usual tomorrow night.  I haven’t practiced at all since November.  For all I know, my shoes may not fit anymore.  I was going to buy new ones before this term, but every time I think about shuffling off to the dance supply store, I get this nagging thought that says I’m going to have another baby and my feet are going to grow another half-size before I’ll get my money’s worth.  No, that isn’t it–you see how this nagging thought invades? how annoying it is?  No, what I think is, “I don’t know any good nurse-midwives in the
Portland area.”  Argh.  I can’t seem to stay on topic at all with this paragraph.  Maybe I’d better talk about something else.

So we might be getting a cat soon.  Oh, never mind.

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