vacuum.

Children.

I have never had any desire to have them. Ever. I view having children as the end of one's life. Once you have them, there are no more late nights. Your body droops and sags, your hormones run rampant, and you become undesirable to most men without kids of their own. Plus, in addition to needy people everywhere else in life--clients, parents, friends, siblings--you are now fully responsible for creating and releasing your very own human being into society.

But now I'm at the age where a "party" isn't an all-night bar crawl. It's sitting around a friend's living room because she can't afford a sitter--and since her child is there, all her other friends are welcome to bring their own. So there I am-- Holly in a room of mothers, all of whom are asking me if I have a boyfriend and when I'm going to have one of my own. If I say I don't want to, they insist that I will change my mind. I guarantee that I will not.

Am I less of a woman for this, I wonder? They wipe spit-up and baby poo off themselves like it's lint. They don't flinch when their child screams. They have entirely civil conversations with peers and then break out an angry disciplinary voice. Is that who I'll be? I have to be honest: I really hope not.