Rotting eggs

I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that K and M will never have cousins to play with on their mom's side of the family.  Afterall, in January, I hit that horrible "ugly number" in between being a half century old and no longer three decades old.  I have issues with the whole thing, but right now I'm focused on my rotting eggs.

Admittedly there are days when I'm incredibly sad that my child-bearing years have all but escaped me.  I feel like I was robbed of a wonderful opportunity.  I think I would've made a great mother. Friends constantly tell me that I "have plenty of time."  Whatever.  They remind me that Julia Roberts, Haley Berry, Salma Hayek and others have all had children after turning that "ugly number."  "Whatever!" I say.  I watch the birthing stories on TLC or Discovery Health and sometimes I cry at their happiness and my sadness.  I think the miracle of life is one of the most awesomest experiences a person will ever have.  And I've been skunked of having such an opportunity.  The whole fact makes me want to flip the bird towards heaven. 

But then there are days, like today, when I think it's actually a good thing that I don't have children.  Sitting in a restaurant for lunch with a friend of mine today, our conversation kept getting interrupted with a toddler who was throwing a tantrum each time he wasn't getting his way.  The boy would scream and whine at the top of his lungs.  Instead of scolding the kid, the parents kept changing out his toys.  Each time the kid would scream, I'd look over and sneer.  I would never allow my child to throw such tantrums.  And I don't think that my sister and brother-in-law would allow that either.  And I know most definitely that my parents would never allow that.  I believe that there are just certain instances when parents should just get a babysitter and enjoy some together-time and just be a couple.

Then this evening, I was at the store trying to get ideas for K & M's Christmas presents.  At my mother's request, I went to a toy store.  (Yes, I know I was walking into danger but it was later in the evening and felt that I was upping my chances).  I'm in the store for about five minutes and all of a sudden I hear this incredibly loud wailing coming from off in the distance.  It was another child.  Screaming his head off because he wasn't getting his way.  Un-freakin'-believable!  The father was holding him and letting him throw his tantrum.  The worst part about it was...there was no place for me to go where I couldn't hear this child.  I had to quickly jot down my notes and get the hell out of there.

As I left the store, I realized that today was a good day for rotting eggs.