#NerdsUnite: I met my husband on @PlentyOfFish (Infestation and Leo the Cat)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don't get every day from someone!!) - andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ItsJessWeaver

So, the house hunting thing has been interesting.

We were all set last week to start the process of buying this house we found, a house we loved. I felt like I had been kind of impulsive about it, and went by the house after work to look around—I guess to reassure myself that, yes, I had made the right decision. I noticed a few cracks in the mortar around the foundation and I got this BAD feeling. I guess it was a sinking in the pit of my stomach, saying, if I hadn’t seen this crack, what ELSE hadn’t I noticed? My intuition told me I’d better get the house inspected soon, maybe even before we did anything else. Basically, my brain just started itching, and I had to scratch that itch. I knew what I loved about the house; now it was time to find out what was wrong with it.

The inspection itself was five hours long. For a 1500 sq/foot house, that is a pretty long inspection, but Mark, the inspector, was especially thorough. We were newbies at house-owning and house-buying and house-maintaining; Mark knew that.  A lot of the inspection was him pointing out little things here and there we might want to improve about the house over time. We got a ton of super great advice about insulating the crawl space, rerouting the water heater drain pipe, and maintaining the heating/cooling system. We even got to go up onto the roof, which was a special thrill for me, because I am such a klutz responsible people usually don’t allow me to do things like that without a helmet or a harness. At first, nothing major popped out. By hour 4, however, things changed. I had been taking notes on my tablet, and it was time to go up into the attic, so I set the tablet down and prepared to climb up into the open area above the ceiling and insulation.

I should point out that I had googled the shit out of home inspections. I had focused for several days on foundations, because those cracks really scared me. I read site after site and forum upon forum of people’s inspection and home-buying nightmares. The pictures were horrifying, and the stories about the efforts of homeowners to fix the lemons they hadn’t thought they were buying…they were discouraging. I was nervous all day before the inspection began, and when Mark told me that the mortar cracks appeared to be superficial, I breathed a sigh of relief. It’s ok, I thought; the foundation is fine. Nothing prepared me for what we found in the attic.

As I climbed up into the attic rafters, I looked around at a sea of insulation and a network of wires and cooling/heating ducts. The ducts each led to vents that opened up into the house, pumping, at the time, heated air into each of the rooms. The first thing I noticed was the smell. It smelled rank. And then I saw the fecal matter. Everywhere I could see, there were rodent droppings and urine trails. Every piece of insulation was covered in rat or squirrel poop, dirt, and urine. There were traps up there, rodent poison, and a few discarded pieces of wood and junk. Tim and the inspector were further in than I was, and they were commenting on the extent of the contamination. It was disgusting. Picture a giant rat cage that hasn’t been cleaned out in weeks, and then seal it—there’s your visual. Worse than that, the A/C ducts were torn open. Big holes were chewed into them, and the rodents had been treating the A/C ducting like giant hamster habitats. Mark picked one up and shook it, and we heard the sound of debris (rodent shit) bouncing off the walls of the tubing. THIS was what the air had to travel through before coming out of the vents, into the rooms below. THIS was what we had been breathing as we innocently opened doors and tested appliances.

The final straw was the wiring. Every inch of it was chewed, some parts down to exposed copper. It was cris-crossing at the bare parts and laying over pieces of wood, like so many random bunches of string. The fire hazard from that alone would have been a deal-breaker; the entire house would have to be re-wired. We left the attic; we’d seen enough. Already my dream house was starting to feel a lot like a nightmare.

A few more points of the inspection had to be covered. We looked at the bedrooms and the bathrooms, and the final parting thought came from behind the trim in the bathroom. I looked at the floor along the bathroom wall and noticed some dust that seemed to be coming from the underside of a decorative chair rail halfway up the wall. I hit it with my fist and more dust came out. I called Mark over and he stuck his screw driver up to pry the trim away from the wall. As he did so, the half-shells of little roach bodies tumbled to the floor; underneath the trim the wall was speckled with roach excrement—a lot of it. At one time, this house had been home to quite the colony of roaches. As we know from our own Jen Friel’s roach experience, a heavily roach-infested house doesn’t ever really get roach-free. I started to get this creepy feeling that the investor who re-vamped this house painted over quite a few nasty things in his quest to flip the property for a profit. All we had seen made me wonder what was hiding inside the walls, waiting for the house to come back to life with warmth, furniture and food.

Ultimately, we decided to kill the deal. We terminated the contract and ground to a halt all the work we’d put in to becoming homeowners, and we started over. It was disappointing, but there’s a bright side: we went to visit the house several times and during the inspection got to meet a very curious and friendly kitten. He seemed hungry and cold, and we wondered if he belonged to someone nearby. We almost took him home with us, since he seemed too skinny and dirty to be anyone’s pet, but because he was so friendly and social, we decided to let him back out and see if he had a home to go to. He disappeared, and we left. When we came back one last time, we found him wriggling out from the crawl space of the house, and took him inside. It was clear to us that he’d been living under there, fending for himself for no telling how long, but that at some point he had been someone’s pet, or at least had contact with people. And now he was alone, in a creepy, empty house. Tim picked him up and we could all hear this intense purring as he let Tim scratch his belly; at that point I knew we’d be taking that cat home.

We did, and when I took him to the vet she said he was malnourished and a pound underweight, but otherwise healthy. She vaccinated him and prescribed kitten food at regular intervals for weight gain. He likes sleeping on pillows and will eat pretty much anything that can fit in his mouth. We named him Leo.

(Of course, I uploaded his picture on facebook as soon as I could. Everyone loves him. He’s a star.)

#thatisall

Want more from Jessica? Click here to follow her on twitter!

and check out her blog over yonder!

#NerdsUnite: I met my husband on @PlentyOfFish (Things Tim says)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don't get every day from someone!!) - andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ItsJessWeaver

The other night I was sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with Tim, and for the love of all that is holy, I cannot believe I can’t remember what tangent we were on that got us to this place in the conversation, but we were talking about nutrition.

Oh yes. We were talking about eating home-made food and how I’ve banned Hamburger Helper from the kitchen. We don’t eat it anymore. I used to eat it growing up, then I didn’t, and when I met Tim I started eating it again because he so often cooked for me and he ate it a lot. So anyway. I am trying hard to eat real food, not a bunch of overly processed crap that brings up a mild recollection of what food should have been, if only we cared enough to eat it fresh. So we had cooked together—lasagna from scratch. It was delicious. And even though it had all kinds of cheese in it, which might technically make it not the best choice health-wise, my comment was that at least it was real food, not wood. A lot of processed food, especially diet food, has cellulose in it, which is actually wood pulp. It is filler, it is non-nutritive, non-caloric, and no, it is not food. Technically it isn’t toxic to people, so the FDA says it’s ok to add to stuff we eat, even though it isn’t actually food. The official story is that cellulose, or wood in your food, is a plant fiber and can help reduce caloric content in food. I’m a little creeped out by it anyway.

The conversation goes like this:

Me: “At least there’s no wood in this, even though it might make me fat.”

Him: “I’ve got some wood that will make you fat.” Snigger. (Ooh, a dick joke. I laugh. I love dick jokes.)

Sometimes I wish I could post everything he says on Facebook. Like that website “things my boyfriend says.com”. But I have grandmothers and cousins on there, and I can’t be bothered to edit the audience of my posts that much. So I didn’t post it, but I wanted to. That happens to me all the time. Something happens to me, or someone says something, and I immediately think “I should post that on Facebook.” I feel like there should be a part of me that thinks that is a really stupid idea, and I am vaguely alarmed that this part of me isn’t there.

Tonight, before I started writing, I was hanging out on the guest bed in the office where Tim runs his gaming empire. Right now, he is playing Star Wars: The Old Republic, and he has taken a position on the dark side of the force, which I think is interesting. He always plays good guys, and I think he is getting off on being bad, for once. I say, for once, but really—this guy did more bad things as a kid than I ever imagined doing. He got it out of his system early, though, and pretty much ever since I met him he’s been a complete angel. He keeps telling me he’s really an asshole, but I don’t believe it.  So I’m hanging out, writing a post for my blog, and when I finish he comes over and cuddles with me on the bed. Whenever that happens I strategically position my neck under his hands, like so, and he is supposed to catch the hint. He’s sometimes talented at catching the hint, but if not, like tonight, I might have to say something.

The conversation goes like this:

Me: “Mmm…my neck still hurts. It got worse at work.”

Him: “Oh, it did?”

Me: “Yep. So…do you think you could find it in your heart to rub my neck a little bit?”

Him: “Yeah…I might be able to do that.”

Me: “Oh yeah?”

Him: “Yeah, I might be able to find it in my heart.”

Silence. Neither of us say anything for a moment, and then he says, suddenly,

Him: “OK. I found it.”

Me: “What?”

Him: “I found it.”

Beat.

Him:  “In my heart. It was in there.”

And then I got a neck rub. And I thought to myself “ He’s so cute. I should post this on facebook.”

I didn’t. I totally showed self-control, by not posting it on facebook, and posting it in this article instead.

Apparently,  my default is set to “share.” I didn’t use to be this way.

I blame you, Facebook.

#thatisall

Want more from Jessica? Click here to follow her on twitter!

and check out her blog over yonder!

#NerdsUnite: I met my husband on @PlentyOfFish (My @match ex-boyfriend's mom is my realtor)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don't get every day from someone!!) - andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ItsJessWeaver

So, there comes a point in every person’s life when the home you grew up in is no longer “home”. I had the good fortune to grow up in one place. I spent my child and young adulthood in one house, and I got pretty attached to that house. I used to go on trips to my grandma’s house or to camp and get homesick for the house—not really the people. For me, it was all about the feeling of home.

I have lived across the country from my childhood home for 5 ½ years , but I just now came to the realization that my parent’s home was not “home” anymore. It happened over Christmas break, and I think it had a little bit to do with how emotionally distant I am from my family. It isn’t my choice, and I can’t change it, but I realize it is something I have to accept. My husband and I don’t want to live away from both of our families; staying here is the right thing for us. His family is here, and when we have kids, I want them to have aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents around them.

With Tim’s new job, though, moving became a no-brainer—we can’t sustain the commuting costs living out in the sticks where we currently rent. We DO live out in the sticks—septic, well water, no TV signal, the whole nine yards. As a city girl, I actually appreciate the quiet for a change, but gas is expensive. So, sooner than later we’ll need to relocate closer to the city. As I trolled craigslist and real estate sites on the web for rentals, I got more and more depressed. All this money to rent someone else’s property—all this work to move just to move again sometime soon…it was enough to ruin an entire day. That is, before I realized my mistake. What was my mistake? Well, my first mistake was that I didn’t ask Facebook. This is what I love about Facebook, by the way—I get so much help and love from my faraway friends. I posted a status update about how I was starting to feel like maybe we should be buying a house instead of renting, but as far as I knew, we couldn’t afford it. Right away, a good friend of mine messaged me. She and her husband had recently purchased a house, and she seemed pretty convinced I was running the math wrong.  She helped me figure out that I might be able to actually afford a house, and what steps I should take first if I wanted to explore the possibility. At this point I’m thinking—no way. This can’t really be happening.  I can’t honestly be thinking about taking out a mortgage and buying a house—but, as weird as it felt, I went with it.

So, I started looking. I looked at home listings online, I looked into mortgage lending programs, and I researched real estate. I spent a whole weekend on real estate sites, and waited for a realtor to call me. My bank has a moving referral service I thought would be useful—and they promised a local realtor they work with would call me within 24 hours. That didn’t happen. Of course, I posted on Facebook again about my new obsession, and the next wonderful thing happened—a realtor friend commented. No need to wait for some dude I don’t know to try to figure out what kind of house I wanted to live in—not when I have my own personal secret real estate weapon. Now, I have to say, this isn’t just any friend. This fine lady is the mother of my ex-boyfriend, the one I met on Match.com! (Small world, EH?) I always liked her when I was dating him, and I decided I was not going to wait any longer for the other realtor to call me. We were on the same wavelength immediately, and picked out a bunch of houses to see the next night. She gave me some lender options, I got the ball rolling on that, and the next night we went on our first treasure hunt. We saw 6 houses in one night, and only one that we really loved. We really, really love this house. Walking into this house was like going on a first date with someone you really, really like—my heart was beating fast, my pupils were probably dilated, I was making awkward small talk and laughing a little too loud...I was a goner. Kitchen a bit small? NO PROBLEM. Walls too vanilla? WHO CARES. This is the house we want.

So, in the space of three days, I went from being depressed about renting to sitting at a table reading a contract so I could officially make my first offer on a house.

The best thing about it? We were at my realtor’s office, and her son was there. Yep, her son, the one I met on Match.com and dated for three months. Even though things didn’t work out between us (breakups aren’t ever fun—even if you know it’s the right thing to do), we still stayed in touch—well, we stayed friends on Facebook, which is kind of the same thing. I credit him with teaching me that a guy can be really good, smart, cute and kind without being “the one”. He was the guy with the killer profile and the wicked sarcastic sense of humor. He was the guy I wanted very much to love—but even I had to admit that love isn’t something you can make yourself feel, and a relationship isn’t going to work if you don’t want the same things. All in all, I consider my past relationship with him to be one of my most valuable because we didn’t end up hating each other, he taught me a lot, and he’s just a good dude. But we all sat there thinking—wow. The truth is, when you first meet someone, you never know where that relationship will take you. We met on a dating site, were together for three months, broke up and now, 18 months later, I just signed a contract for his mom to represent me in my first ever real estate deal—all made possible by the power of Facebook.

We may not get the house—we are still waiting to hear back from the seller—but I can’t help feeling like I’ve already won. I’m excited to be at a point in my life where I can consider buying a house of my own, and I’m amazed at how connected I am. I love that I’m surrounded (online and IRL!) by smart and fabulous people who can encourage me to keep going-- moving forward, taking risks, and seizing opportunities.

My friends may not be millionaires, but having them on my side still makes me feel pretty rich.

#thatisall

Want more from Jessica? Click here to follow her on twitter!

and check out her blog over yonder!

#NerdsUnite: I met my husband on @PlentyOfFish (Christmas Recap)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don't get every day from someone!!) - andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ItsJessWeaver

Well! Christmas is over!

Time to take a look at how it went down.

I am not even looking at how much money I spent. More than I should have, probably, but I can still pay my bills, I didn't use any credit cards, and I don't feel guilty. My spending didn't hurt me, and made a few people happy for a few moments. I say that is a success.

Things we didn't do: We didn't fill stockings for each other, even though that is a family tradition of mine that I generally like. What can I say? I just didn't feel like it. It saved us some money. We didn't have any parties like people said we should. I didn't want to have a party, and that saved us some money, too. We didn't send out Christmas cards--but then I only got one card, myself. It was from my Grandma, who I DID send a card to, because she's basically one of my favorite people, and the only person in my family who consistently remembers me for birthdays and holidays. I write to her a few times a year, and I visit her when I can. We didn't go out caroling or to look at Christmas lights; both are things I like to do at Christmas, but weren't feasible. We also didn't decorate the outside of our house with lights. We didn't go "Black Friday" or "After Christmas" shopping. We didn't go to church.

Things we did: We participated in potlucks and parties by bringing food and presents. We bought and delivered gifts of one kind or another to our immediate families and friends. We got each other one very nice gift for Christmas; Tim cheated and got me two, but I forgive him because it's exactly that sort of thing I love for him to do. He got me a little Christmas fairy on a glass ball, and it melts my heart to think of it, because, I don't know, ok? I just love that guy to pieces. We hung out at the house together while he had a little time off from work, and we got to hang out with family and friends, doing the ordinary things we do. We sang along to Christmas carols in the car. We decorated the inside of the house with all the stuff I've collected over the years, and we had the tree lights on nearly every day for about a month. We did a Christmas countdown calendar. I can't say advent, really, because it wasn't religious. We talked about the meaning of Christmas, and whether or not we want to teach our future children about Santa. The jury is still out. We remembered December 25, 2010, when Tim asked me to marry him in a cute, elaborate gift-proposal that the whole family was in on. (Here’s the link)

And we thanked our lucky stars we had decided to become each other's family. Merry Christmas to us. :)

This last thing, I have struggled with whether or not I should say it. It happened, however, and I don't really feel like I should pretend it didn't. I told myself not to care about it, but the more I tried not to care, the less successful I was. I told myself not to care when not even one of my family members in California picked up the phone to call me for Christmas. I waited, like an idiot. Hour after hour passed, and I considered calling them myself, but I have to admit this here: I was afraid. I was afraid the same thing that happened at Thanksgiving would happen again--I called my Dad twice on Thanksgiving and left a message and he never returned my call. I called my sister and left a message, and she sent me a message on facebook, which was very nice of her, and I appreciate that very much. But I was afraid to call and not get a call back. Long and short of it, the only thing worse than my Dad not bothering to call me would have been me calling him and not getting an answer, not even a return phone call. I just couldn't take the rejection...I couldn't do it. My mom sent me a message later on facebook, after I posted a status that was sort of a hint, apologizing for not calling, because they were busy.  I was busy, too. I was busy wondering how I got to be so unimportant to the people I grew up with that I didn't even warrant a text message saying Merry Christmas, not to mention a thank-you for the gifts I prepared and shipped to them. I was busy waiting for my phone to light up, and wishing I was strong enough to just do the calling myself (as I always have, before this). I was busy trying not to cry when my sweet husband kissed me before bed on Christmas night, reminding me that I'm important to him, even if I feel like I'm not important to anyone.

I tried so hard not to cry, and I guess I needed to, because I'm crying now. I'm crying because I saw Christmas photos of my niece opening her presents, and my dad was in one of the photos--with a bluetooth headset stuck to his ear. One click and we could have talked. I'm crying because I was on Skype for hours yesterday and I could see my dad was on, too. And he didn't call. I know I should just grow up and call him myself, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm pretty sure they don't really want to talk to me. I'm crying because my mom is the last person likely to write to me--she's just not flowery and into correspondence--and she is the only one who did, and even though her notes were short and not sentimental, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for 6 freaking lines. I didn't even blame her for not calling--she doesn't have a cell phone anymore.

I know I'm not a model daughter. I know I don't do or say the things they want. I don't claim to have the answers or know how any of this works. I'm just me, trying to figure things out, trying to be a good person, trying to make a living, trying to be a good wife to Tim. I'm trying, but I'm not perfect. Sometimes I get scared, and hurt, and I don't know what to do, or how to fix it.

So there you go. Christmas recap. Best year of my life was 2011, hands down. I married Tim, who is the best friend I always wanted in a husband. I have a great sex life, I'm healthy, and challenging myself professionally and intellectually. But, well....I'll let Henry Wadsworth Longfellow tell it:

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Even with Facebook, blogs,  skype, and texting, rejection is the same as it ever was.

#kthxbye

Want more from Jessica? Click here to follow her on twitter!

#NerdsUnite: I met my husband on @PlentyOfFish (The Baby Fever)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jessica. She and I met through this loverly site, and by her reaching out to me asking if she could write for us. Really rad chickie, she provided a lot of insight into my childhood for me (something you don't get every day from someone!!) - andddddd she has quite the life story. Like did you know she moved cross country for love? ORRRR that she found out her ex cheated on her by reading it on Facebook? ANNNNDDDD she even married a guy she met off of Plenty of Fish! Yep, true story! This is life as told through her eyes, and through the keyword of the nerd. HIT IT JESSICA!!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ItsJessWeaver

Uh oh, you guys.  I have a confession to make. I had the worst case of baby fever last weekend that I’ve ever had in my life.

I used to tell my parents anyone who would listen when I was 12ish that I would never get married (oops, did that this year) and I would never have kids. In fact, I planned to move to a remote wilderness cabin and live alone when I became an adult. That didn’t happen though, partially because it is hard to make a living when you don’t live near any towns, partially because I really didn’t understand how much I would like the convenience of Starbucks and shopping malls, and lastly because I stopped hating other people (mainly myself) so much and I just didn’t want to be that alone. I was pretty serious about not having kids, though.

I had my reasons why I didn’t think I would be a good parent. I’m terribly selfish, I’d probably say horrible (if true) things out loud to them and scar them for life, and I’d probably transfer all my neuroses to them by attempting quite vigorously to do just the opposite, in an effort to not be the terrible parent I’d envision myself as. I also had this problem with love—see, I really didn’t think I was good at it. Fact is, I thought I was terrible at loving people. I always seemed to be doing terrible things to people I Ioved: disappointing them, saying thoughtlessly rude things, forgetting important stuff, and otherwise being awful at having friends and being related to people. Thus, having my own children seemed to be the height of selfishness—make little replicas of myself (like a do-over!!) that I can then ruin and shatter to pieces emotionally? No way, not for me.

Water under the bridge has a way of carrying away the crap people throw over the railing, though, you know? Time went by. I went my own way. I removed some influences from my life that were hurting me, and I realized that a lot of the time when it seemed like I was disappointing someone I loved, the disappointment had more to do with their ridiculous expectations than my actual failures. How I learned this was actually letting people in, and watching them fail to meet my expectations, and learning to recognize when those expectations were unrealistic. Or when they weren’t— and when I had every right to expect something better, and take steps to get it. Watching other people fail and learning to let go of that helped me to learn how my failures are never as absolute as I think they are.

Still, I fail. I understand that this happens and I am a lot more zen about it now. I’ve expanded my horizons and met a lot of people in the last 5 years. Some of those people have been adversaries; some of them have been kindred spirits. I’ve been lucky enough to have added people in my life who have taught me some lessons about how much a person can love. As I have learned those lessons and watched some people I know who are very good at loving, I have started to feel the chill in my heart (the part where I said I would never have kids of my own) begin to thaw. It’s a spring melt, if you want to know the truth. I’m flash-flooding over here. It is freaking me the hell out, how it is changing me.

I want to have my own child, at the same time that I fear it. My heart and my head are engaged in daily arguments over the possibility, the eventuality, no—the inevitability—of pregnancy and motherhood. I stop short of begging my husband (he wants a more stable income before we do something crazy like take on the responsibility of another human life—geez, he’s talking sense, here) but a few crazy moments have come and gone where the longing was almost palpable, and I wondered, when it was over, who had possessed me for those hours. Could it just be that I’ve changed? Could it be that living with someone who genuinely loves me has started to re-wire my brain for reproduction? I’m still scared shitless at everything being a parent means, but I’ve stopped letting that fear convince me that all the pain and uncertainty isn’t somehow totally worth it.

It took me almost the whole weekend to get it out of my system, and every time the baby fever comes it gets worse. The fever is always followed by some relief and a lot of self-talk—the message being, “it is totally ok that you don’t have a kid. You don’t need this right now, you really don’t.”

But damn, I think I do. Maybe not right now. Right now I’m working on my career. Right now I’m thinking I need that Nook tablet that’s under the Christmas tree. Right now I need to enjoy my husband and cat and the freedom we have. ‘Cause one of these days, push is going to come to shove. Someday soon, my brain is going to run out of arguments, and guess what?

 My heart is going to win.

#kthxbye

Want more from Jessica? Click here to follow her on twitter!