Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Ann Summers, Babies & Bouncy Castles!

"Do you want a baby?" 
Yep, that was the question my husband asked me halfway through 'Undercover Boss' last night (yes, the one about Ann Summers - go figure!).  Took me a bit by surprise I have to admit, especially as I was minding me own business trying to work out just what the hell some strange looking contraption on one of the shelves actually did at the time.  Tried pausing the picture (God love Sky+) to get a better look but I'm over 40 and me eyes aren't what they used to be so I gave up and left it to me imagination.  Probably best.  Looked like an A&E visit waiting to happen though...
Anyway, did I want a baby?  Hadn't been aware my biological clock had been ticking quite that loudly but I suppose, as I approach my 43rd birthday (Jesus! Where the hell's the time gone?  Doesn't feel like 5 minutes since I was swooning over Adam Ant and getting all excited at the introduction of a 4th TV channel) I suppose I am starting to think about things like that, especially as I don't currently have any children.  I'd rather my sister had just had some then I could have been one of those lovely Aunty's that just "borrowed" them for a weekend and gave them back when they were knackered and past themselves, but that doesn't seem likely now (my sister is far too obsessed with fake tan and the church of Scientology to think about children and, quite frankly, I think her husband needs to stop her from reading about anything with the loosest connection to celebrity culture, she's easily sucked in) and although I have a dog that I do treat like my own child, when you're childless and my age you do start to wonder if maybe this is your last throw of the dice as far as motherhood is concerned.  It's all Carla Bruni's fault.  She may not be saying anything regarding being pregnant, but if the rumours are true then she's around the same age as me isn't she?  Is 43 really too old?
Do I want one of these?

Oh Christ, I'm actually starting to give this some serious thought now after years - decades - of vowing I'd never have children.  For various reasons.  But our next-door neighbour's party for their one year old last Saturday was a rather large deterrant, believe me.  As I was hanging out the washing and marvelling at the fact that you can hire a bouncy castle for the kids but it's always the adults that seem to be on it, I heard a conversation from indoors claiming that somebody had been sick over somebody else (I was assuming we were talking about the toddlers here by the way, not the adults) and decided that I was much better off out of that and ran back inside to the safety of my (usually) well-behaved West Highland Terrier and an afternoon of 'Only Fools & Horses' on GOLD.  Mind you, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to work out that the combination of toddlers, bouncy castles and copious amounts of cheesy wotsits is not going to end prettily.
Anyway, am I broody?  Possibly.  A little bit.  And my cousin bringing over her gorgeous baby girl on Sunday didn't help, although her rather prompt and quick reply to the question "Would you have another one?"  with "Would I hell!" did make me reconsider for a few seconds!  I just don't know in all honesty.  It's not something you make a decision on lightly (although you wouldn't think that if you watch Jeremy Kyle), but then, when you're fast approaching 43, time isn't exactly on your side either.  It's certainly given me something to think about, even though I should be thinking about starting my new book, not whether I can face putting on weight that I'll  never lose at my age and endure sleepless nights on a regular basis.  Then there's the dog.  He'll never take to a baby.
So, I went to bed wondering whether I actually am mother material, and woke up wondering the same thing.  And I just don't know.  But then, who does?  In the meantime though, it's back to the writing for me, and it's about time I did some because I've done nothing this week except mow lawns and defrost freezers and that is not going to help me get a novel written...not unless I write one about a sexy gardener who looks like Keanu Reeves and likes to trim borders with his shirt off...



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