And Baby Makes Three


I don't poop!

I don't poop!

As an empty nester, I remember the pangs of cutting the emotional umbilical cord when my last child hit the streets running. I went into a deep funk, albeit briefly, and I recall The Mister and I staring at each other across the dining room table thinking, “Hmmm, now what are we going to talk about?” But, slowly, we exalted in being able to sit at that same table and really, really, enjoy the silence – together. I enjoyed never hearing him grumble to our son, “When’s the last time you changed the oil in that car? Ya know, when I was young I had to [blah, blah, blah]….”  And he never had to watch my head spin around as I reincarnated my mother yelling, “Were you born in a barn!?  Clean up this room and [blah, blah, blah].” 

But never, and I mean NEVER, have I had any desire – or withdrawal from nurturing so powerful – as to believe that my emptiness could be replaced by a LIVE BABY DOLL! This is the creepiest entertainment news that the media has ever dredged up in their search to find worthy news items. I ask you:  Where in the World is Matt Lauer? – literally! He recently interviewed women who find it comforting to carry around these $1,000 real life baby dolls. They swear they are under no false perceptions that they are actually real babies, and exult in rediscovering the “five-year old girl” buried under their 60-year old bodies. One told Lauer she plays with her doll “the same way a man might make a big train station and play with his trains or play with his sports car, his boat or his motorcycle.” Uh, I think she’s mistaking those for the blow-up dolls he’s got stashed away in the closet with the instructions for erection…I mean erecting…the train set.

Now, I have to admit I do miss the pitter patter of little feet once in awhile. And sometimes I am tempted to wander over to the local dog shelter and find some little mutt to hug and feed and hold. But, alas, my freedom to run away for the weekend with The Mister, and the thought of getting my lazy, princess ass out of bed before dawn, deters me from such maternal wanderings.

Me pretty

Me pretty

Besides, when I do decide to make a mutt my next priority, I’m not going to pay $1,000 – and I’m going to want one who REALLY needs a real boost to his self esteem – not the other way around. initial

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