Is my forehead hot?

I got to hold a fresh-from-the-oven little lady this week.  This is dangerous territory for me.  I caught the baby fever.  Not to be confused with Bieber Fever.  I hear that is highly contagious too.

Please ignore the homely-ness of this.  It had been
a long day.  

I absolutely adore the littles.  And I love being pregnant, probably more than the actual children (is that bad?).  But there's this teeny weeny little problem... newborns don't sleep.  They eat all the time.  They cry to communicate.  They mess up my perfect schedule.  And they turn me into an emotional nightmare for two+ months post-partum.  Maybe I'm being petty, and difficult, but I am entitled to my selfish opinions, if nothing more.  


So, where do I we go from here?  I love the idea of more babies, sort of.  The sweet baby smell, the little goat-like cry, and all the cuddling you could ever want.  But the physical and emotional toll makes my ovaries curl up inside me.  Now that's a graphic image.  


I know I've got plenty of time, but I don't care for the unknown.  I'm a planner.  I am neat and orderly, and parenthood, as it turns out, is anything but that.  I just want to know what I'm supposed to do.