Some drama for you mamas.

Clearly I've been a slackass lately, but I also made a three-week trip to Africa in the time since my last blog, so go easy on me.

I'm sure at some point I'll think of something funny from my trip that I want to blog about, but today is not that day.

Currently, I'm in South Padre celebrating Mother's Day with my mother, grandmother, sister and her French boyfriend, JP, who I have decided must be called "Jeep". (Mainly because it's just funny calling a 6'7" Frenchman that.)

As today is Mother's Day, I've decided to write some thoughts about motherhood. For starters, I make no secret of the fact that I don't like children, nor do I want them. Despite the fact my mother thinks I should have children because the vet praised my cat's good behavior once (a rarity, I assure you), I have about as much maternal instinct as a walnut. This means I will spend the rest of my child-bearing years having self-righteous bitches openly judge me for not making the most of my reproductive organs. The only reason I don't experience more of this at my nearly 30 years of age, is that I'm not married. At this stage, I usually just get dismissed with a simple, "You'll have children. You just haven't met The One."

And because women feel they can regularly judge me for my decisions regarding procreation, I would like to do a little judging myself today. (First, a disclaimer: If you are one of my friends with a child, for the most part the following statements don't apply to you. I like most all of my friends' children, save one whose children I have quite literally seen eat carpet after drawing on a wall. There are some others whose babies are ugly, but I won't hold that against them, as I started out a gremlin as well.)

Now for the judging: In the event you decide to have a baby, you should know that outside of your family, you're lucky if even five people care to see a website documenting EVERY. SINGLE. MOMENT. of your pregnancy. We don't want to see your nast belly button. We don't want to read letters you've posted to your unborn child signed "Love, Mommy and Daddy". Put that shit in a baby book, not on the internet.

Once your kid is born, please note that not all people want to hear what types of shits your kid is having. I sat one day listening to a co-worker tell someone about what the different textures and colors of her kid's shit indicated. When I kindly asked that she please go somewhere else to discuss this, she fired back with, "Oh calm down, Liz. This is a NATURAL thing. You'll understand when you have kids someday, and I know you say you don't want them, but oh yes. You WILL have kids."

First of all, fuck you. Second of all, maybe I should tell you about MY shits just so you can experience the same auditory delight that I have listening to your discussion of mashed peas versus cereal. "Man, I just took the craziest dump ever. Like, it was kinda solid, but not really. And almost, I don't know, orange? I guess it was the beer last night. OH, but you know, now that I think about it, it wasn't as crazy as this one I took on Tuesday. That thing went around the entire circumference of the toilet bowl! Seriously!"

Additionally, if your kid is sick with colds more than once a month, I am judging you. And so is every other child-free - because it IS freedom - person around you. Particularly if you participate in that horse shit known as a "family bed". Oh, and if I'm responsible for picking up your slack at work because you're out taking care of your overly-sick kid, I will not only judge you, I will become very bitter and very bitchy. You'll no doubt blame it on my single-girl naivete and lack of understanding, but a scientist once said that babies could start each day by licking a seat on a subway and not get sick more than two times a month*.

Finally, if for some reason I do find myself knocked up one day and actually go through with it, God bless the first woman who says "I TOLD you you were going to have children," because everyone knows that ninja skills are only enhanced by heightened levels of estrogen.

*This is a true statement until someone proves me otherwise.