So up to the time that I married Marmot, avoidance of pregnancy was a big deal. Uber-religious families, sneaky living arrangements, it all played into and IUD and pretty much always double-rainjackets, if you know what I mean.

{Side Note: I thought we were hiding the living arrangements fairly well from Queen B. because she lived on a different flipping continent, but she knew and she and my Dad messed with me, pretending they didn’t know but doing little things to wig me out- I know, how evil right? Totally going to get the cheap nursing home now.}

I was 25 when I got married, and had always planned on finishing school and all before I had kids. And being perfectly honest, I was pretty much anti-kids. {I referred to them as snot-nosed terrorists. Charming, I know.} Holding babies made me nervous, and I never thought they were as cute as anyone else did. I loved my job and wanted to do a career before kids. So during our kids talks before we got married, I always told Marmot that I was thinking maybe starting having kids when we’ve been married four or five years if at all. He would agree with me, smiling, and say maybe three years.

Fast forward to our honeymoon. All of a sudden I realize that it is totally okay for me to get pregnant. No shame! I remember this epiphany, we were in our hotel room in Mexico, Marmot was in bed recovering from Montezuma’s reign of Mexican buffet terror. He did convince me to wait to consider trying until he recovered and we got home from our honeymoon, and later conversations convinced me that waiting a year was a good idea, and maybe we should keep track of these things we want to do, and call it a Baby Bucket List! And thus the Honey B. blog was born.

But anyway, you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Remember the snot-nosed terrorist thing? I think I might be back there. During the baby fever that I’ve had over the past three years, I never said that. I awwwed over toddlers with pigtails, and would look at baby clothes every time I was in TJ Maxx. I thought about how I would decorate the little guest room as a nursery, and should I even bother doing it as a guestroom? We even tried to get pregnant for a few months.

But now, I have absolutely no baby fever at all. Instead I have the eerily familiar irritation of children at Target. Narrowed eyes looking for the screamer that was near my gate as I was getting ready to board a flight last month. The complete bypass of the baby section at TJ Maxx. This is the me that considered never having children. Because I really am thinking about what a childfree-by-choice life would be like.

I’m back to baseline. And I’m not sure what to do about it, because Marmot is ready. And here I am, thinking that not having kids really makes sense on a lot of levels. *gulp*