Fetus Fever

The time has finally come.

The time I've looked forward to, slash dreaded for a while now.

All my friends are slowly starting to become real grown ups.
It's a sad, but wonderful thing.

Almost all my best lady friends are married or have live in boyfriends.
Now, slowly, they're all becoming knocked up.
(Meredith had her baby earlier this year. The roundest, most adorable thing ever.)
And a lot of them have the same due date.
It's really quite strange.
The real fun part is going to see all the names they pick out. My friends are quite creative, so I'm really looking forward to that.
Although, I'm not sure anyone will be able to compete with my little bundles of joy: Penelope Faye, Phinnaeus James, and Elliot Ellery*.

*I know some ladies freak out over secrecy of names, luckily, no one else would ever want to name their children any of these, so I have no problem posting them for you.

Normally, this sort of information doesn't make me too worried about the state my own life is in, but it does when my parents start bothering me about it!
And how dare they?!?!
My mother didn't get married till she was 27, and then didn't have me till she was 31!
Woman needs to calm down.
And my dad is no different. But, he has a better hand to play, seeing as though he was 22 when they got married, and 25 when they had me.

I do also enjoy how my father always asks me, "Why aren't you married yet? Or at least living with someone?"

Oh, I don't know dad. It must be because from the line of spectacular men waiting to sweep me off my feet, I just decide....thanks, but no thanks fellas. I'd rather be alone.

What the hell kind of a question is that?
I guess I wouldn't mind the "getting married" part sooner, rather than later.
But, I like beer. And whiskey. And I hear that kind of stuff is bad for a baby.




Then again, my baby will probably pop out with Diet Coke addiction, and a high tolerance for Jameson.