I adore kidtime. Enough to put up with the "oh, you should have kids" speak that always comes with it. I mean, I'm rather doubtful, but maybe I'll get run over by I must provide half the genetic material with someone, but I'm not really planning on it, or looking for it. And am perfectly ok with that. I am good aunt/sitter/adoptive aunt material.

It's kind of a joke that if I get laid off, I've got a ready made job as a fulltime nanny. And boy, is that tempting. Provided medical, of course;)

I need to not think about having kids, due to the whole not-getting-any-younger thing. If I think about it, I panic a little.

She didn't have an outtie when this was taken:

[link] [link]

Why, why, why am I obsessing over this when there are so many much more dreadful (or beautiful) things to obsess about?

Betsy, your link told me it was forbidden. But I think it's hilarious that there's a site of famous navels out there.

I do, too. Famous navels. I had no idea.

Aw, don't panic, Jesse. Borrow my zen.

(and I'm looking forward to no more cramps.)

In unrelated news, they canceled my bra-making class and refunded my money. I am bummed. I was looking forward to exercising my sewing-fu.

Aw, don't panic, Jesse. Borrow my zen.

Hey, I wasn't panicking two years ago.

Are you calling me a youngster, missy?

eta: (I've actually had a jump on this conversation, in that back when I was in my teens, I was warned I might have serious problems getting knocked up. A lot of those concerns have faded, but I sort of accepted I wouldn't be ABLE to have kids by my early 20s. Which makes won't versus can't less of an issue.)

I realized how hermitty I've been in my office when a passing acquaintance-- whose office I pass by daily and to whom I'd spoken (in the dark) the night before-- walked by me Thursday and shocked me by being five months pregnant, and bigly so. My brain was all, "how did I have no idea? But maybe she's not...should I even ask? How can I not! She's huge!"