I totally don’t consider myself some old pervert, but evidently my sons do. I downloaded that “Burnin up” song from the Jonas Brothers and Gavin told me that I am too old to listen to them. Apparently, it’s disturbing to my sons that I am young enough to still listen to pop music, though, I’m not some soccer-mom that has CDs of children’s music and watches tween movies like, “High School Musical.”
Never mind my slight fascination with Zac Efron. (What? I would TOTALLY do him if I were like, 25.(30) sigh.
Taylor took a low blow to my gut at this point with, “When you get to be your age, mom…you have to start listening to Beethoven to increase your brain power so you don’t get “all’s-himers” because then you won’t know us anymore. And calcium because your bones are going to crack when you fall down the stairs” (I actually do trip down the stairs quite often, but more as a result of tripping over our dog than straight clumsiness.)
Then Gavin poured salt in the wound with my favorite, “Yeah, you’re even too old to have any more babies.”
Ummm…I’m 31, so I feel the need to defend my choice to stop popping out children. I’m young, especially to have two kids that are almost teenagers. Of course to them, we seem ancient as all parents do, but having issue with the tag team approach they were taking on my youth, I told them that if they even think of knocking some girl up at the age I was when I got knocked up…I will lock them in their room and ground them. Gavin tried to say he could figure out how to get out without us knowing if I did that, and I told him I would maim him. Like, staple their little balls to the floor. “Try to sneak out the window if I do that!”
Teenage pregnancy is a frequent topic of discussion at my household. We like to horrify the kids beyond imagination by telling them they will have to work at McDonalds for the rest of their lives and never go to Disney World with their children. (Which is about the most horrible thing they can imagine.) I make them watch Teen Mom and then tell them that if they get someone pregnant, they become abusive like Amber.
I also tell them that sex without condoms when you’re not married produces gremlins, which is why they aren’t allowed to eat after midnight.
Haha.
My worst fear as a mother of sons is that they can get MULTIPLE girls knocked up simultaneously. I really thought they would have the male birth control pill by now. When they do come out with it, I will be first in line. Forget parents who actually believe their kids will practice abstinence---I know my spawn. I will totally crush it up in their Capt Crunch, make them snort it…I don’t care. I will make it to my mid-forties before I am called Nana. I have no room in my Coach for packets of crackers and moist towelettes.
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I don’t know if it’s that whole “biological clock” thing that everyone talks about, but lately I have wanted to have a baby. (GASP) I know that is the most shocking and disturbing thing I have said in the past ten years. I kind of want to wash my own mouth out with soap….and then violently cut out my tongue with bolt cutters.
One reason is that they smell good. And they are cuddly. I have a constant battle with my sons about the finer points of deodorant and Stridex pads. With babies, you still have everything to experience with them: The First Day of School, getting to see what their personalities are going to be like. My kids are boring! I already know them, and let me tell you…they are NOT all that fascinating right now. They don’t believe in Santa anymore…they don’t even play with toys anymore. It’s all about video games, skateboarding and giving me looks of disgust. Telling me how I need to stop living their lives for them now that I am 31 because mine is over. (Yeah, they kind of got me on that one, for right now anyway.)
I keep waiting for my sisters to have babies so I can smother them with kisses and give them sugar, and laugh hysterically when their kids fill the cat’s ears with ketchup. No, but seriously, I want to have my nieces and nephews every summer for a week. I want all my kids cousins to be close to them, just like I was with my cousins. Unfortunately, the only way this is going to happen is if they come stay with us. The good thing, is that we live far away so they can’t just drop in for babysitting.
So why don’t I have another baby? There are a few reasons, one being that Andy can’t. I forced him to be the one to get fixed after I had pretty much two pregnancies, back to back. Evidently birth control was not one of my strong suits, so left to my own devices, I would probably have 12 kids by now and live in a shoe, undoubtedly, a Birkenstock, not a Jimmy Choo. Secondly, my kids are 10 and almost 12. I would be a complete moron to start over, just when the finish line is in sight. I guess I will just have to continue admiring from afar until my clock breaks completely.
Or until my children continue on the pattern of teen pregnancy in our families, and make me a grandmother before I turn 40, which is more likely the story. 
