I want a squishy baby.

I'm frustrated today because I am writing an article (and sorry this has become a place where I vent about why I hate and love writing at the same time, but that's just the way it goes.) about a new grant Utah State has written, which allows students with children to have access to free childcare (I mean, is it really free? No. But that's another story.) and it got me thinking about how I, in no way, will be eligible for that grant in my life. One year from now, when I'm finishing up my undergrad, I will not have a baby. Unless I get pregnant within the next three months, no grant for me. And when I realized that, I just wanted to start crying.

Because then, I went home, turned on my computer, and read a little bit of Jess. I've been obsessed with her ever since she got the pixie cut. And then, she had that sweet baby, who, I'm serious, is the most adorable little thing to ever grace this planet. And that family is just so dang beautiful that I can't even.

And although I'm sort of grateful that I'll never have to worry about childcare while I'm putting myself through school, I'm sad because it still doesn't change the fact that I'm not a mother, living in Boston, doing the most important job there is to do, the things that my body, my soul, were made to do. It just sort of makes me feel worthless. But it shouldn't, because that's silly. And then, Madeline, I read your post and thought, "Hm, same brain this week." Except for you are married and it's more normal for you to be baby hungry. What is my deal?

I walked out of my apartment last night and an adorable, little black dog came bouncing up to me.

Maybe I'll get a squishy pup instead.