...A woman of a certain age...

Today I had lunch with my boss and some friends of hers, with whom I have become friendly. They are a professional couple in their mid-thirties, he, an actor, she, a fitness expert/trainer/television personality. They brought along their 8-month old son, Gunnar.

I have never seen two people so in love with their own child. They could barely take their eyes off of him. Every moment, every sound, every movement was met with an "awwww, oooooh, isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen???" And yes, I will say, he was indeed very cute. He also looked like a bulldog. A bulldog bred with The Rock.

But I digress. What just occurred to me as all 20 lbs of solid muscle jumped in my lap, pulled my hair, slapped my forehead and stuck his fingers up my nose was : please take him back. Please. Take. Him. Back.

At some point in our lives, women are supposed to feel this 'urge' when she holds a baby. This maternal instinct that kicks in and makes them automatically want to rush out and buy the next baby they see.

Did I feel that? I felt something, for sure. It was a sharp pain digging into my side as he kicked me and a sharper pain as he stuck his finger in my eye - it said - GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!

Is it possible that some day, I may wake up and feel this overwhelming desire to have a child - to stare lovingly at this child 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? To think that even the stinkiest diapers are works of art? To want to raise this child past the cute baby stage, into loud screaming childhood, into sullen, moody teenage years, and then drop quarter of a million dollars to educate him or her?

Probably not.

Is it wrong to want children eventually, if for nothing than to have them do all the crap around the house that I hate doing?

I don't think so. (not as long as I still feed them, clothe them, and treat them well).

But I do think that I was absent the day God handed out maternal instinct.