You couldn’t pay me to watch another episode of “I didn’t know I was pregnant”. When I want to see unattractive people feign ignorance for the consequences of their actions, I’ll spend 15 minutes in my company’s status meeting. How could you be pregnant and not know? How often does that happen? Apparently, more than you’d think since they’re airing a second season of the show. I’m so overly cautious, I’ve been know to take an EPT test after phone sex – just to make sure I’ve got all my bases and fallopian tubes covered.

If I went into the hospital with a bellyache, and was told I was having a baby, and there was no time for an epidural, I’d get up and leave. There’s no way I’m giving birth before I get a baby shower, tons of gifts, tons of cake and lastly, tons of pain killers. Oh but wait, the girls who make it to the hospital are the lucky ones. I feel sorry for the babies that are born in the toilet. How could you possibly put a positive spin on that? “Even though Mommy thought you were a just a big poo-poo, she loves you and your natal nurses were  the Scrubbing Bubbles.”

I’m no rocket surgeon, (thanks Britney, I’ve been waiting for a chance to use that one) but I’m aware of my body and what it’s telling me. Right now it’s telling me to wrap up this blog and get it a meatball sandwich with extra provolone. I’m grateful I’m overly cautious because I'm not ready to have a diaper pail or a baby in my house.  Next time I spend the night with a guy, you can bet I’ll spend the next morning eating a Plan B breakfast burrito.

That’s why I’m grateful I’m overly cautious.