how few the years

after two hours of Italian studies last night, i got to thinking that maybe yesterday's "hurrah!" was a bit, well,...mean. i'm sure there's a better word for it, but i'm too lazy to sit here thinking of its double. let's just say i was (and granted, still am) drunk on love for my own life.

on the drive home late last night, i thought it over. it is not mean or wrong to feel the way i do. why should it be wrong to communicate it? mothers unashamedly post thousands--literally--of baby cutesies, taking no thought to those unfortunate women out there who are unable to conceive. why should i hold back my take on things? why should mothers have the loudest voice?

really. think about it. in comparison to life as a whole, most people have few years single; the moment marriage comes, singlehood is cemented in the past and a new duo commences. just the same, most married couples have few years just married. the moment a child comes, your marriage is forced to change (don't even try to tell me it doesn't) and the days you once knew and loved are traded in. how short the years for "married without kids." i recently read an article in the New York Times about a new stage to the traditional four (childhood, adolescence, adulthood, old age). they're calling it the Odyssey years. you know, that 1-2 year break all the cool kids take between high school and college to travel the world and do what they want before settling into education/career.

my vote is for another addition, maybe the Shakespearean years, that time when you're married and so in love with spouse and life and you don't want anything to ruin it. Sorry, but there just isn't a better way to say it. Kids would ruin what we've got goin'

why in the world--if we are so in love as we like to believe we are when first married--would we speed those few unique years along and away! i have the love of my life sharing my thrill for life! why follow the M.O. of saving for a home purchase and landing a job with good medical insurance so we can start family planning? to each his own, but i'm gonna go ahead and live it up until my definition changes.

the easy insult is that this is all just fancifully childlike. afterall, we are of 'grown-up' age (30 and 32). but who cares! children never die of stress-related heart attacks, so i'll join their team (see, i don't hate kids). why not?