Ticking Time Bomb

My mom has consistently told me, as I have gotten older, that the only children she really liked when we were growing up were her own. So you can imagine, with this warm, fuzzy influence, that I am far from what you would call a "baby person." Or a "kid person." I'm definitely more of a dog person. In fact, I already know what I'm going to name my first dog.

But lately I've been noticing that instead of cringing when I see babies, I actually (gasp!) smile. On the metro, I find myself staring at the (quiet) toddlers and stroller-bound bundles of joy and waving my hand at them. Instead of pushing myself closer to the window to steer clear of their germiness, I'm finding myself inching closer and trying to make them smile.

WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!

Trust me, I am nowhere near wanting kids. Friends who are pregnant have to suffer through my incredulous looks and (I'm sure inane) 20 questions. They are foreign creatures that I cannot relate to. I am so happy for them, and grateful that it is not yet me dealing with morning sickness and swollen ankles and the scariness of childbirth.

But I can feel my biological clock very slowly, ever quietly, gearing up toward movement. Maybe when I turn 30? I'm not sure when it is going to dentonate, but I know it's not yet. In fact, even thinking about possibly being pregnant is enough to make me reach hastily for my birth control pills.

In fact, writing this has freaked me out thoroughly. Which is actually sort of reassuring. I STILL don't want babies and my clock has not been activated. Thank god!

Until the ticking time bomb that is my biological clock goes off, I'll happily stare at these little creatures from a distance and "ohh" and "ahh" over my friends' beautiful children.

And do the "no baby dance" every month with glee and joy.