A 28-year timebomb

Hormones. They are the hired-goons of the brain. Most neuroscientists try to ignore them but as a graduate student i study them because its actually pretty amazing how these silly little substances can wreak havoc on the brain. All the while, never realizing that my own brain had hired these little bullies to push around my own grey matter.

Growing up, i hated children. Even as a child myself, i considered myself above them. As a teenager they represented the worst consequence of sex. As young married person, they were just one more stupid thing for relatives to nag about. Have kids? Are you fucking crazy? I dont even LIKE kids. I've never changed a diaper before and i wasnt gonna start now. I dont get "googly" around babies. I find their "dependency" repulsive. I always thought kids were the short way to wreck a great marriage and a fun life.

Tick tock. I turn 28, and just like that, a little explosion occurs in my brain that destroys my youthful defiance and any sense i have left. Suddenly, i am struck with the urge to procreate. I employ the pattented Lady Head Ignore It and It will go away plan. The urge only goes stronger, compounded by a new-found sense of complacency and boredom with my life. I had always believed that people only decide to have kids when they've truly become bored with their lifes, and here i was, treading water in a big pool of ennui. Fuck. I tried fighting it with rationality, but it all went out the window. This IS probably a good time to have them--i am chronologically young so its likely they wont end up too retarded and my body should be able to handle this better than when i'm in my 30s. I DO have a good handle on my graduate career--i'm finally on the downslope toward the PhD. My health insurance COVERS every little thing including pre-natal and delivery and post-natal costs. Logic was not in favor of NOT having a kid. Fuck. Okay, what about the husband? The Head has been PRO KIDS since day 1. Nothing to stall me there. Okay, fine, let's try this. We dont even know if our reproductive organs are tip-top. Lots of booze and confections and laziness may have given the gonads amotivational syndrome. One month later, i realize for lazy drunks, we are an incredibly fecund couple. Fate has a great sense of humor.

So here i am, 8 weeks pregnant. I still dont care much for babies in general, although i really like the ones' my friends' have. I still have never changed a diaper. And i'm not even gonna go into detail on how those fucking prick gangster hormones have essentially made my body their own private amusement park. And the reality of 9 months with no drinking has made me rather bitchy. It will be interesting to see how all of this pans out. I've seen a lot of friends come through this and still be quite cool despite all their new responsibilities. I've seen aspects of them change, but I've also seen the things i like about them remain the same. After all, one of my fondest memories of a post-baby friend was where she was breast-feeding her baby in one arm and slopping down beers with the other. I wanna be like that. So i promise this will not become a pregnancy blog. Hormones will not transform Lady Head into a complete douche-bag. But unfortunately, i wont be able to chronicle my epic drunkeness either. I'll guess i'll just have to rely on my other skill of perpetuating evil gossip. Did you hear that Fat Nick is a chronic masturbater? And that he does it while thinking of DUDES?