7 Reasons Why I’m Ill Equipped to Have a Baby

I’m at an age where many of my friends, acquaintances, and people I don’t really know (but I feel like I know because I spend so much tracking their baby bump progress on Facebook) are settling down. It always starts with your high school friends and acquaintances. You can tell which girls will get married or pregnant first based on how over plucked their eyebrows are. Don’t ask me why it’s true, but “if their brow bones aren’t hairy, they’re the first ones to marry” is a great rule of thumb.

Next comes your college friends. At around 25, the wedding invitations start trickling in. Then from their it’s just the slow death march of all your friends moving back to the suburbs to start mommy blogs while you’re in the middle of the city screaming “but I’m an independent woman!!!” to no one.

But that’s the way it must be for some of us. I’m just mature enough to know that I’m way too immature to be in charge of another human for a very long time. I could be trusted to watch a child. I’m a great baby sitter. I do this thing when I tuck the kids in: “snug as a bug in a rug.” They die over it. But when you’re baby sitting, you’re with these kids, what? 5, 6 hours? The likelihood of you accidentally killing them in that amount of time is low. If I’m entrusted with a baby 24 hours a day 7 days a week…. let’s just say I can’t believe more people don’t forget that they left their kid sleeping in a hot car.

And THAT, my friends is only one reason why giving me a baby a mistake, but there are many more, like:

  1. Everyone would get tired of my 24 year old self whining, “this is kids raising kids!”

    I like to think that the red head I’m most like is Lucille Ball, but I know it’s really Garfield.

  2. I am lazy. Last night I slept in my bra because it would have been too much to wrestle that thing out of my sweatshirt. 
  3. My desired sleep schedule is closest to a baby bear suffering from mono in winter. If I don’t get my 12 hours a night, I am just incorrigible.

    Garbage Pail Kids Movie

  4. I don’t like anything gross, and babies are just a sticky ball of uncontrollable bodily functions. Up until very recently, if my dogs pooped in the house, I would just pretend not to see it until someone else in my house did. And that only stopped because my dogs stopped pooping in the house.

    Case in point.

  5. 9 months of no drinking is not an option yet. If you are not ready to give up pumpkin beer for a whole season, I think that’s the clearest indicator that you are not ready for children. 
  6. At this point, if I had a child and gave up on my career for them, they would have no chance of being allowed to pursue any other interest besides drug addled child star with a fame-obsessed mom-ager with hair extensions way too long for her age.

    Queen.

  7. I don’t like having to smell things as a detection method. Like when someone sticks something in your face and says “hey, smell this, does this smell weird?” Parents always seem to be smelling things to figure out if it’s something that came out of a baby, and I’m not up for that kind of case work. This is not Law and Order: SV-P.U.

*Dun-Dun*

(Nailed it).

That’s my time! Thanks, you guys! Don’t forget to tip your waitress!

Abel Poehler, Ginger Baby

In honor of Parks and Recreation returning from hiatus, I thought I’d introduce you to Abel Poehler–Will Arnett and Amy Poehler’s youngest son.

Heheheh look at Abel and that apple.

Are the people over at Conan O’Brien’s show going to write a sketch where it’s revealed that Conan is actually Abel’s father, or do I have to do everything myself?

Abel Poehler is so unexpected. It’s almost like Amy Poehler gave birth to some boring Aryan looking kid, but they traded him in for Abel because he looks like he would fit in better with a family of comedians.

I’m a huge fan of Abel Poehler, he’s so cute… but seriously, God bless Amy Poehler’s birth canal. This is the problem with teeny tiny women like Amy having children with big guys like Will. They end up with big male babies that mathematically should not be able to move through such a tiny lady-hallway. By lady-hallway, I mean the path between the uterus, va-joo-joo, and the outside world. AHHH! Nature is scary.