I don't have the time or the emotional energy to elaborate on this, but in the spirit of sending thoughts into the universe a la "The Secret", I am saying this out loud (or as out loud as one can get through a computer keyboard anyway).
I want peanut butter and jelly stains on half of my clothes, mud pies on my living room carpet, sleep deprivation, sweet pea puree in my hair, and half of my savings account spent on Pottery Barn baby furniture that never gets used because I can't bear the thought of the kid sleeping more than ten feet from my bed in a pack and play.
If I have to hear one more story of someone we know accidentally getting knocked up when they didn't want kids to begin with I'm going to drive directly to Gymboree and punch someone. Damn breeders.
That is all.
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