How sad that I told myself I'd actually write on this silly blog, and then two weeks go by. Of course.

Last weekend was...interesting, to say the least. I went to Vegas to visit Kay. Unlike most folks in their 20's who visit Vegas, I did not drink, gamble, go clubbing OR sleep with a random dude. Rather, I went to Lucy's 1st birthday party! Lucy is my friend Megan's daughter (I met her through Kay, who met her during her time at Nordstrom). Now, everyone I know KNOWS I'm not a kid person. My nurturing instinct is minute (okay, so I've laughed at a kid or two after they've fallen down) and my lack of desire to have a child can equate to the joy a nurse has every time she has to clean up human bile (also, see above where I laugh at children falling down). It's just not in me. Holding a child freaks me out a little and the thought of a baby pooping on me makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Kay tries to reason with me that it's the same as taking care of dogs, but I just respond with, "I don't have to worry about a dog projectile vomiting on me."

And then there's the little fact that I know how I was as a child. God forbid my parents ever let me forget.

"You cried all the time," my dad would say. "If you weren't in perpetual movement, you were screaming your head off. Flying with you was a total nightmare. I had to stand the entire time, bouncing you in my arms for six hours. I dreaded the descent, when we had to sit back down. You screeched for the duration. I'm surprised nobody tried to kill us."

Kind words, father.

I also think about how I was as a teenager. I was a miiiserable human being. Total disregard for family. Always lying. Attitude to the max. Drunk half the time. Possible bi-polarism.

How nobody chooses to remember how THEY were when they were growing up before procreating astounds me. Maybe if they just rooted around in their memories for a bit, the world would be a whole lot less populated.

Now, all that being said, I cannot deny that Lucy did put a little fissure in my stone "no baby" wall. She is the happiest baby I've ever seen, so full of life and promise. Her eyes were so curious but she was always aware of everyone around her. She and I instantly became friends after I tickled her toes, and despite her drooley face, I let her give me a kiss. But the best part of the night came when she was given cake for the very first time. Watching her examine this frosty sugary conoction was quite interesting. I could never imagine not knowing what cake is, so it was fun to see her try to figure it out. And the moment her mom put a little bit in her mouth, you could see the wheels turning. She chewed, stopped, chewed some more. She paused and suddenly nodded her head fiercly. You could actually see the registration, "this is the best shit ever." And then it was over. Lucy ate her piece of cake by the fistfulls, spreading it around her high chair tray and then licking her fingers. She was having the time of her life. And we all enjoyed watching her. Witnessing a baby experience something for the very first time. It was something so small, but I couldn't help but get excited. For myself and for her.

Lucy remained a happy baby for the rest of the evening, and I was actually sad to say goodbye. Even Megan commented that she thinks Lucy is "converting" me. And maybe that was true, a little. Very, very little. But I informed Megan that unlike having my own baby, I can just give Lucy back. I get fun baby and she gets poopy baby (and you know sick cake poop was inevitable).

So perhaps Lucy did penetrate my strict "no baby" armor just a little, but really, who am I kidding? I'd prefer picking up dog poop over baby poop any day.