The Baby Boom Is Getting Old

I'm writing this as little feet are pitter-pattering around the kitchen.  And hearing the occasional grunt of frustration as my nephew tries to peel magnets off of the refrigerator and stick them to the sliding glass door to the sunroom.

If you have any clue, you know that I absolutely adore my nephew.  When I'm having a bad day, all I have to do is think about his pudgy little smile and when he reaches for my hand to walk me into another room to show me something.

But when my brother or my sister-in-law picks him up, and either my ma or myself are cleaning up the tornado streak he leaves behind, I realize how not ready I am to have children.  I was watching him nap on the couch this morning, (seriously, passed out in his tracks from playing too hard, all sprawled out and everything,) and I started thinking, How do people do it?  I can barely take care of myself, how will I ever be able to raise a child?  My mind started running through all kinds of scenarios...for instance, it snowed a pretty decent amount here last night.  Now, if I had a baby, and I had to shovel myself out, how would I do it?  I can't leave a baby alone in the house, but the driveway has got to be shoveled.  Because, as I've learned in the past, you can't depend on anyone but yourself. 

Sure, ideally I'd have Baby's Daddy to take care of all of that manual labor kind of shit, but let's face it, with my track record, that ain't gonna happen.  Ideally I'd wake up, the driveway would be shoveled, my car would be cleaned off and there'd be rock salt put down so I don't slip, fall, and bust my face on the concrete.

I wish my biological clock would shut the fuck up.