every time i think maybe (someday) kids wouldn't be so bad, i get a glaring sign that i am sorely mistaken. every single time. and that's okay. i'm not taking it personally anymore. it's just not meant to be.
last night i had a dream (me and the good dr. king, right? look where it got him...) that i was in charge of caring for a classroom of kids, during snack time. and i had this tray of gigantic cookies, iced with beautiful red and blue frosting - they looked wonderful. and there were enough cookies for all these kids and for me and i was so excited. (what can i say, i went to bed hungry.) but as i was getting all these kids ready for snacktime, and myself too, i noticed all these things around me that i enjoyed: a stack of my favorite t-shirts and a bottle of grey goose on the counter. and i suddenly got really sad, because i realized if i sat down to snack time with the kids, i wasn't going to fit into my favorite t-shirts any more and i wasn't going to have any place to wear them and i wasn't going to have any more grey goose-induced fun.
i could picture my life, covered in red and blue icing, full of kids, and it wasn't good.
so i didn't have any cookies. and i didn't participate in snacktime. i put on my coat and i left (which coincidentally led into another dream, this one having to do with space travel and the whole space-time continuum, which i believe has nothing to do with my whole child-bearing issue, but maybe, whatever, i don't know.)
so yeah. no kids for the superjanel. not anytime soon, anyway.