We are not your mother. Your mother is at home, watching “Deal or No Deal.” Sure, you could call and ask her, but that will just turn into a whole ‘thing’ — what with the shouting and the running and the exploding and the crying. Besides, your mom needs a break. Why do you think they sent you to college in the first place? And really, haven’t you asked her enough stupid questions over the years? Instead, direct all I-need-a-hug , it-hurts-when-I-pee and other how-to-deal inquiries to? Mother@phawker.com. She loves you no matter what.
Dear Mother Phawker,
I’m 29, my husband is 32, and we’ve been happily married for 3 years. About a year ago, we bought our first “real” house (3 bedrooms, 2-car garage, backyard, etc.) and have been hounded ever since by our families (read: our mothers) to get on with filling those bedrooms with babies. A few of our friends are parents, but most are still doing the whole PBR-as-a-food-group thing. We know we want a family, but can we handle sleep deprivation and Friday nights with Netflix? How do you know when you’re really ready?
Ticking (as in my biological clock) in Turnersville
Mother congratulates you and spouse for creating what sounds like a financially secure, stable life together. Such steps have allowed you the luxury of choosing when to begin your family, rather than having it thrust upon you by circumstance. That said, there never is a moment when you just know. My advice is this: Whatever your chosen means of birth control, skip it for a month. Stop looking for an aha! moment. Instead, grab spouse by the collar have a few awwww yeah moments. If you don’t wake up that night in a cold sweat, terrified you might be pregnant, then you’re ready.
(Got a problem? Some kinda girl-talk thing that has to do with fallopian tubes, bloating and, like, feelings and shit? Ask Mother Phawker at email@example.com because at Phawker, all your problems are solved. Promise.)