I need a baby. Or vodka. Or both.


Somebody needs to loan me a baby, or a toddler, STAT.

Not for long. Maybe a week, or two.

Preferably under the age of 4. Not potty-trained. Not sleeping through the night. Super needy. The bigger the asshole, the better (I’ll take a good one, might just need to keep em longer).

Why the fuck would I want to do this to myself, you may ask?

Well, if I’m not reminded why I don’t need/want/shouldn’t have any more kids, I might do something stupid.

Not that I can physically get pregnant, nor do I want to. Pregnancy sucked balls for me. But there’s more than one way to get a kid.

And that’s the problem. This past week, it’s been painfully obvious that I don’t really have KIDS, I have pre-adults, and it’s completely freaking me out.

I spent 5 days with my daughter, who just finished her freshman year of high school, in Texas for a regional gymnastics competition. There were hundreds of moments that I caught myself thinking how grown and independent she has become. She didn’t need me to tag along to the pool at 10 pm with her friends or walk next door to get ice cream with the team. In fact, there were way more opportunities to be a teenager (otherwise known as check out boys and test the cussing skills) without Mom.

Then, I come home to my baby, my sweet little boy, who is officially done with elementary school. I didn’t really give the finality much thought until now. He’s always been kinda mature for his age, stopped acting like a “little kid” a few years ago, so it’s not new to me that I see him as growing up. But then this week happened. The last field day ever. The last recess that the dogs and I walk by the playground to say Hi at 12:30. Then the nail in the heart, the 5th grade continuation ceremony. Bam. Done.

I’ve always thought each new phase of their life was so interesting and new and exciting. But this kinda sucks.

I’m sure I’ll get over it. Logically, I also realize that with their independence comes mine. I can leave the house without a babysitter. No one is attached to my hip or my tit (except the proverbial money-teet, and my husband on a good night). And this new phase of no little kids will be fun, exciting, and challenging, just like all of the rest.

But not right now. Not today.

Today I need someone to give me a friggin kid to ease this restlessness.

Or vodka. You could give me that too.



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7 Responses

  1. Aunt Nancy says:

    This blog post brought an interesting reality check for me! While I will never be dealing with a toddler again (even as a grandchild), there is forever my reality of my beautiful daughter who is developmentally forever younger than your two wonderful almost growns! Interesting reality as I watch the next generation of family meet milestones that will never come for us. The season of continuations is always a hard one — for parent of young people moving onward because they are mourning (just a bit) the loss of those close moments of childhood and the growing independence of their almost growns — for me because many of those milestones will never be a reality for us. We each have to find our blessings where we can!

    • Amanda says:

      This is a perspective I honestly hadn’t thought of. Yes, I know I’m soooooo lucky to watch my kids grow and change and mature, but I have felt a little sorry for myself this past week. I have to kick my own ass out of that funk and just enjoy the young adults that they are becoming. You have been so strong and amazing raising your awesome daughter, I never considered those milestones that you may be missing. Thank you for sharing that. I hope to see both of you sometime this summer!

      • Aunt Nancy says:

        Thanks Amanda — this season of milestones is always a difficult one for me. But we move onward and upward. Hope to see you this summer!

  2. Kathy Yarman says:

    Come home and take care of your mother…. I’ll pretend to be need….

    • Amanda says:

      I’ll be there soon! But you’re not fooling anyone – there’s no way you’ll let me take care of you! You will be feeding us and mothering all of us as soon as we get off the plane 🙂

  3. Janelle says:

    I need a break from my 2 & 3 1/2 year old. When can you be here?

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