Forgive me if I'm not a believer

I just read this piece about how during pregnancy all these people volunteer to babysit and when the little booger finally comes into the world, people head for the hills, or the casino. This makes me feel better for believing that my mom is full of crap. She talks a good game. "I need to get a crib for the house." "I'm going to put up some baby decor on the walls." "I need to buy out Babies 'R' Us so that the baby has everything he needs here." She has somehow managed to convince herself that she will sacrifice her super cool life to take care of "our baby" as she calls him. I say, emphatically, "YEAH RIGHT."

My mom has way more of a life than I do. Her job can be likened to the commander-in-chief of a small nation. So even if her thriving social life went on hiatus, she still has her professional obligations that make it impossible to get a hold of her before 7pm (and that's if I'm lucky). Therefore, I am skeptical that my dear mother will actually step up to the plate when John and I want to go to chicken wing night or check out the new Denzel movie.

A few other friends have also volunteered their super nanny services, but I don't believe them. Not that I'm bothered by this. Just as I never offer to help people move - in fact I make it clear that I DON'T help people move - I never offer to help take care of children. After all, children are rude and dirty and cry babies. If I have to put up with any of those qualities, I better be permitted to scold, bathe, and pacify with controlled substances (joking, people). The only way you can do that stuff while avoiding any kind of awkwardness is if that kid belongs to you. So let's just say I'm saving myself for my own little monster. It's karmic.

Oh, it's also that I won't trust anyone with my first-born. The second kid will be a different story...

If I'm glowing, it's because I'm on FIRE

Who the hell LIKES being pregnant? Your body turns to shit. You can't have a martini. Assholes judge you for drinking Diet Coke. I'm so sick of answering the old, "Are you planning to breastfeed?" Why do people care? They won't be personally responsible if my boy doesn't get the IQ points to get him into Harvard. They're not going to be the ones getting up in the middle of the night to deal with ear infections. And they're certainly not going to be paying out of their own pockets for the OH SO EXPENSIVE FORMULA. (Jesus fucking Christ, if one more person bitches about the cost of formula... What the hell? Is bringing an actual human being into the world supposed to be free? It costs money to feed me. Should it not cost money to feed my kid?)

I walked six miles yesterday and it was like I wasn't even pregnant. Like the baby didn't even care. Like he's all, "Six miles? So what? I don't care. I'm going to hang out longer. I'm going to stay in until they force me out in October."

I'm trying to keep a cool head about this because thinking about it only makes it worse. It probably wouldn't bother me so much if it weren't so fucking hot. This ridiculous heat is making me extremely unproductive. All the stuff that I need to take care of is in the hottest places in my house. I need to do work in my office. Too fucking hot. I need to clean my office. Too fucking hot. I especially need to clean out the garage. Too fucking hot. We are slaves to our bedroom. All we can do is hang out in the bedroom with the air con at full blast.

I am in a crabby mood because, in addition to this heat, I had a gross lunch today.

Since John is still taking his nap and I'm bored, I'm going to keep ranting. You want to open yourself up to a world of judgement? Go ahead and have a kid. EVERYONE will judge you. I do. I judge parents all the time. I think mothers who don't have their children on schedules are stupid. I think mothers who quit having a life because of motherhood are even stupider. And don't even get me started on those fuckers who "love being pregnant." But don't worry. You can be sure that I'll get mine. I will be judged in kind for being selfish, uncaring, crass, etc. But once my kid starts developing into this human being who is smart, independent, thoughtful, helpful, and awesome like his pops, I will have the last laugh.

I could go on about post-partum flabby bellies, the destruction of a sex life, and how I am totally going to use my kid as an excuse to blow off lame social obligations but John just woke up.

Time to get a decent meal.