When I'm done laughing, I'll give you an answer.

Someone asked me last week if I was going to have more children, and as always, my reply was, "well, I'm not, but maybe talk to my husband. If he's willing to go through nine months of puking his guts out, then HEY! I'm all for it."

I'll be honest, I do miss having a wee bairn to cuddle, and having that babe gaze up at me adoringly, like I'm the only thing in the world. It sure beats the hell out of "Mom, can you come wipe my bum? I think I got poo on my hand..." or "Mooooooommmmmmm! I'm hungryyyyyyyyyy! Can you bring me a bagel & cream cheese and some strawberry-banana juice?" Like, who in the hell does this kid think he is? Coco Chanel? Now the only time he gazes at me with that loving expression is when I happen to have a McDonald's Happy Meal in my hand.

So, when people ask if we're going to expand the family, my first response is to laugh hysterically. It's similar to what I would do at 3 AM, when the child wouldn't latch to save his life, and I was at the end of my tether. No, sadly, there are no more kids in the mix for us. My sanity just won't allow for it. Let this serve as a PSA for everyone out there who feels that they have to ask, which brings me to the reason for penning this post.

WHY, when I say that I'm not having any more kids, do people look at me with such pity in their eyes, or like I've got a boil growing out of my forehead? Oh, right, it must be all those "Mother of the Year" trophies I have lining my walls. Listen up people. All I'm really doing is depriving some lucky child the chance to eat dry Rice Krispies while watching Spongebob, while Mommy whiles away the day at the computer, challenging Alec Baldwin to that 14th game of Words with Friends. I'm not spending my day, making life-size impressions of my child's head with decoupage, or recording his every burp, fart and bowel movement with a scrapbook page. Hell, I'm lucky if I can get two matching socks and a clean shirt on his bod before hustling him out the door for a few hours, so I can develop my Sims Social character in peace. It also gives me time to come up with witty comments on Twitter, without having to deal with petty problems like what to serve for lunch or dinner. What I'm really trying to say is that we all have our own reasons for not wanting to over-populate the Earth. When I give you mine, please respect that fact, and please don't tell me that "oh, your poor son. He's not going to have anyone to play with as he grows up." Bitch, please. My kid is a bigger social butterfly than the entire cast of Gossip Girl. Trust me. He can make friends with anyone and everyone, and he does. Even if they don't want him to. Just stand still long enough, and you will get his entire life story, all five years of it, in a nutshell. We're working on just name, rank and serial number, but it's hard work.

Another favourite of mine is, "But you'll regret only having one at some point, and then it'll be too late, because you'll be too old." First off, I highly doubt it, because I like my sleep too much, and secondly, that's right! I WILL be too old. Do you think I want my kid to be getting out of diapers as I'm going into them? Hey, I could do what Madonna did, and adopt a child at 50. Just think of the fun we could have playing "braid Mommy's wrinkles" or, "help Mommy find her keys/clothes/house/remember her name". Good times!

No, boys and girls, I'm quite content with my, as some ditz once put it, "token child". He and I have a great relationship when I'm not trying to figure out how much I could get for him on the black market. Having another would skew that dynamic horribly, and would skew my brain function even further. The bottom line is, not everyone is meant to have a brood of children. Therapists would lose a shit ton of money on those "only child syndrome" types if that were to happen. Think on that the next time you want to project your opinion on poor, ol' mother of a single child, me. It'll save you having to back away slowly, looking around for the nearest exit.