I’ve been struggling with the idea that my "baby" was turning 6, and my baby-making days were over. I would dream of holding a baby in my arms and wake up saddened when I realized my phantom baby was gone. So, when some idiot abandoned a five-week-old kitten at my son’s Cub Scout meeting, I did what any self-respecting woman in the middle of the "I want another baby" crisis would do. I took one look at that homeless ball of grey fluff, with his sad, blue eyes and my heart screamed, "He’s YOUR baby!"

The look of joy on my son’s face when I said we could take him home was priceless. He always wanted a little brother; granted, I don’t think he wanted one that was quite so hairy.

When I walked through the door, I held our new baby out to my husband, "Look honey, another baby. He needs us. Hold him while I go to the store and get him some food."

Mistake #1. I did not consult my husband at all about this life-changing decision. Of course, I had a good reason: he would have said "No."

Mistake #2. My oldest daughter is allergic to cats.

Stop! (Before you get all judgmental…let me give you some background information. My daughter was 3 when we discovered her cat allergy. Our housecat promptly became an outdoor cat. Needless to say, the cat, after a year of outdoor bliss, was hit by a car. My daughter was devastated and believed the cat’s death was her fault because of her allergies.)

My daughter’s dream has always been to get another cat. So when I brought this kitten home, she cried. My moody, teenager in training, was HAPPY! The next day she said, "Mama, I was smiling ALL day at school. The kids wanted to know what was wrong with me." Then she sneezed, and sneezed again.

To make this situation work, I wipe the kitten down with ‘kitty wipes’ daily—I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I also dust and vacuum–DAILY! Once again—I didn’t even know there was such a thing. My daughter is on allergy medicine—which I hate. As soon as the kitten is old enough and neutered, he will become an outdoor cat.

I am constantly asking myself, "What have I done? Why did I act so impulsively? Why didn’t I think this through?" The voice sounds suspiciously like my husband.

I guess my hormones just took over, which was a good thing, because after two nights of bottle feeding the kitten, I was TOTALLY fine with the idea of NEVER having another baby. Granted, it was a drastic lesson, but it worked. I’m not having baby dreams and I am at peace with the fact that the baby factory is closed. RPM