Or well, I just told one person.
But now that I've come upon that turn of phrase, you know I'm going to employ it on the reg in discussions of game plans and time frames and thoughts on the subject of fertility and whatnot.
My mother made the biggest faux pas of the decade at my college roommate's med school graduation party when she said to one of my other Manhattanite friends that she should be worried her eggs were going to dry up. I mean, really, MamaNaugs, not her best truth in jest moment. The joke was light hearted in its intention of course, but it's the kind of off color remark that really hits home with a twentysomething single gal.
Even while we're loving our lack of commitments and the freedom we have while we're not tied down, we're counting the months that go by - we know there's a limited supply of babies-to-be backed up in our ovaries. We're not stupid.
But, it dawned on me in this conversation I just found myself in that the me who wanted to have babies by the time I was 29 was someone so different than who I am today and even who I was once I'd bounced from Boston in the Fall of 2008.
That truly was before I moved to Manhattan and turned off my biological clock for a few years.
And now of course as we round the bend from the wedding season of my life to the baby boom I'm happy to report that I do in fact still harbor some maternal instinct. It's just that I'm keeping it in reserve - like my potentially dried up eggs, and I'll tap into it in a good five or six years (hopefully) when all's quiet on the Western front.
