it should be of some concern that i found myself a bit moved by the latest release by aerosmith in the car today. the tune isn't even catchy, like i'm not even humming it now, which is too bad because that means it won't overtake the enormous space currently occupied by that james blunt song. never thought i'd have an emotional reaction to something being screeched by steven tyler. hadn't realized i was experiencing any particular high levels of susceptibility, but there it is.

as if it's may and they are tulips, babies are popping out everywhere. i began noticing the phenomenon early last year. it has ballooned. damn near every woman i know has either recently popped one out or is growing one in her belly. when you're in your 20s, it happens on occasion to friends, usually by some accidental swapping of fluids. but in this procreation bonanza that is the 30s, the pregnancies are much more planned, often elaborately so (i'm talking turkey basters and 'special' arrangements and even legal counsel). even women previously adverse to the idea are going ahead and 'just doing it'. it got to the point last fall that every single social outing led to a pregnancy announcement. can't run into a familiar face without seeing a toddler's face beneath it.

i can't believe how much there is to say about trimesters and teething. what happened to chats about che and chi? the baby-production has gotten so outta hand, some of us are discussing the formation of EWOC, the empty womb club. my god, i think that's a really good idea. wonder what we'll do at meetings... we could discuss how much we relish our ungnashed nipples, bring in a speaker to discuss the joys of open flame cooking, or we could shop on-line for chastity belts or excursion packages to cancun.

this is mandy's max in regina.

and here is jan/ray's olivia in tumbler ridge, bc.
i mean, c'mon already.

ridiculous. just fucking ridiculous. so the recent epidemic of conceptions - in and outside of couplings - has got me thinking. i mean, you have a certain lifestyle, you want to pursue certain unstable things like freelancing and r&b singing. you recognize the plethora of population on the dying planet and think, naw, i shan't add to that. you think of simple pleasures like random drunkenness, spontaneous sleepovers with strangers, unpaid bills, and realize your stunning unfitfulness to parent. but then you get your hands on one of the cabbage patch kids who emerged from a friend and you think hmmmm... but then you say to yourself, wait! aren't you the one who only recently made the dramatically painful admission that you are, in fact, despite some residual and altogether nonsensical resistance, looking for true love? uh, ya, let's leave parenting to the emotionally mature.

check out jack, of tania/martin, who unwittingly brought me as close as i think i've ever come to wanting one of these things for my own. the wave was strong, but i'm happy to report that with a cosmo and a cigarette, it passed.


Blogger blue betty said...

Amen. Empty womb club, here I come. Let's hear it for the true love seekers.

9:07 a.m.  
Blogger pamused said...

thanks for understanding. should we actually begin meeting as an EWOC, we can get all super sanctimonious about the true love thing, and about how baby love just really ain't the same.

10:53 a.m.  
Blogger Carrie and/or Wayne said...

If only I had known there was going to be a baby picture contest....!

By the way, you don't stop drinking when you become a parent - you HAVE to drink because you are a parent. Alcohol, red wine in particular, enhances our parenting.

Try playing Candyland 12 times in a row WITHOUT a drink.


2:46 p.m.  

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