I have entered a new stage of my life. The baby stage.

First, there was the marriage craze where everyone I know was running around buying rings and taking vows. Next, came the house buying craze where everyone seemed to be heading into escrow/was in escrow/had just completed escrow.

Now, it’s babies.

Suzy had a baby, Jill had a baby, Shanda had a baby, Andrea had a baby, Anna is expecting a baby. I tell you, they’re everywhere. I can’t turn around without bumping into someone who has baby news and it’s beginning to scare me.

Every time Kevin and I have a meaningful baby discussion that doesn’t crack us up into hysterical laughter at the mere thought of us as parents, our conclusion is a resounding, “duh, I dunno know, what do you think?”

I’m thinking this means we’re not ready, right? I mean, aren’t kids something you really really want? I always envisioned I’d wake up one morning and just KNOW that it was time. But so far, each morning I wake up without a baby revelation. Just a big dog with a very full bladder.

On the one hand, a kid could be fun. On the other, a kid sounds like a crazy amount of work/sacrifice for something that eventually turns sixteen (shudder). But we rode the marriage wave and are totally blissfully happy. Our house is, by far, the best investment we’ve ever made. A kid is next of the list of life but for some reason, both of us are standing on the edge of this cliff was a serious case of cold feet.

A marriage you can end. A house you can sell. But as far as I know, there’s no return programs in place for children. Sort of the you-break-it-you-buy-it deal.

So am I totally crazy for having a fear of babies? Does this mean I should just stick to pets? Am I destined to become the crazy auntie with 50 cats?

Oh look, it’s time for lunch. I guess that’s enough soul searching for one day.