A few years ago, I hit the age where weddings started cropping up like kitchen ants. I mean it, they're everywhere, and you have no idea where they're all coming from, and you can't see the end. This year alone, there was my wedding in April, my best friend's wedding two weeks later, our emcee's wedding in a month or so, and then from early August until mid-September, not a weekend goes by without bells a-ringin' and birds a-singin'. My good friend, Joel's sister, cousin, and two best friends are all tying various knots. 'Tis the season.
And since 'tis been the season for a few years now, 'tis also the season for babies. All those 'firsts to get married' among us are the 'firsts to get preggos.' Val and Dal, Krista and Kevin, Nate and Erin, and now Nathan and Melissa are cultivating foetuses (or have popped. Kevin and Krista named their little potato Wyatt, of all things, and he came out looking like a middle-aged man).
Due to the recentness of my marriage, the things I wish to accomplish in the next few years, and the size I'm convinced our children will be, I live in perpetual fear of being pregnant. If I don't currently have incontrovertable evidence that there is nothing alive in my womb, then I'm positive we've had an oops. I hope that sort of thing goes away as the months wear on and I remain childless.
However, if I turn up in the family way in a few months, you can say you heard it here first.