when i was 18 i made a life plan. most of it was a lot of gibberish about becoming some famous writer who lived in in a walk-up in downtown and made snide remarks about mountain brook women. i mean, who is an easier target than women who spend their entire day shopping the pottery barn catalog for furniture for their mudroom? the more attainable goals on my list were marry a man who adores me and laughs at my snide remarks regardless of how distasteful they may be, live in a historic home, and have my first child by the age of 30. i am two for three.

recently kevin and i have begun trying to expand our little family. we both have careers (albeit not as a writer as you can tell from this grammatical nightmare i call a blog) that we are settled in to. last december we purchased our dream home; a quaint 1930’s Craftsman Bungalow. now, a few months shy of our 3 year anniversary we have decided to add a small human to our household.

because i am obsessive and a crazee ladee i have researched, organized and all but gone out and bought one of those life-like dolls that simulate a real baby to prepare for this move in our lives. while it is a huge change i feel that we could not be more prepared emotionally, physically or financially. seeing my “godson”, sawyer, and interacting with him makes my uterus cry out “come on lady! you know you want one!”. and while i know that i will more than likely endure the morning sickness (because even now, weird smells make me gag uncontrollably) or the puffy feet and hands, i will embrace pregnancy for the miracle it is. besides, i’ve always felt my uterus to be nothing more than a styrofoam cup just waiting for a potato on toothpicks to hang around in.

several of my friends are pregnant at this very moment. i want that happiness. i want that psychotic neuroses (why yes, i do need one more, thank you) that comes with raising a child. i want to be a cool mom. one who wears converse and jeans that hug my curves instead of making my ass look like i took a dump several times. i want to see my child end up with my smile and kevin’s eyes. and maybe reese witherspoon’s nose. i want to teach my child how to walk, how to talk, how to clean out the air vents with a q-tip.

so there it is. we’re trying for a baby. it could take a month, it could take a year, but it will be worth the effort.