It’s Chili Baby

 
 
I’m no spring chicken. Plus I have my hands and heart full with these two children of ours. But lately when I hear a baby cry coo I feel a pang of longing and a twinge of self doubt and I ask myself, “Did we make the right choice?” And, “Do they sell a DIY reverse vasectomy kit on the Shopping Channel?”
 
Mother nature makes babies all cute and sweet smelling on purpose; they’re nearly impossible to resist. 
 
I remember my son’s first movement; that flutter of a baby’s tiny feet announcing its presence to his mother from the inside out. I was in the car listening to Gowan. When the song suddenly exploded into a drum beat (hello “Criminal Mind”), I felt my son jolt–either from fear or the kid digs Gowan. Either way, I felt him and the feeling was indescribable; joy and amazement and “Holy hell, there’s a person in there!!”
 
I felt that again today. And for a moment, fleeting as it was, I was hopeful. Could it be? Retrace actions… eyes dart to calendar…do the math…assess the probability…
I was excited and hopeful. But hope gave way to the realization that post Grey Cup Chili can mimic that fluttery feeling. 
 

And I breathed a sigh of relief (and possibly a burp) and was grateful for the way things are.We made the right choice.

Also, I make really, really good chili.

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