Today I happened to see one of the executives administrators at Large Corporate Tax Prep Company where I'm on a three-month contract (I hope) until June.  I haven't seen her since I left exactly one year ago last week. 

Her:  "Oh, my gosh!  How ARE you?  How is the little angel?"

Me:  "She's fine!  She's almost two."  (I'm wondering what the right next question to ask is, since the last time I saw her, she'd just suffered a miscarriage.)  "How are yours?"

Her:  "Oh, he's great.  He's almost four."

(I pause.  So do I ask?  What's the right thing to do?)

Me:  (I'm rude) "How have things been going?"

Her:  "No luck yet.  There's nothing wrong, though.  Just have to keep trying. When are you going to have your next one?"

Me:  (Long pause while I consider why the hell everyone assumes you plan to have multiples if you have one.)  "Never?"

Her:  "WHATTTT?????"  (She could not be more mortified than if I had told her I thought I might just leave the little angel outside for the squirrels.)  "You CAN'T stop with one?"

Me:  "Really?  Why not?"

Her:  (sputtering)  "Because...only children...they just...don't you WANT another one?"

Me:  "Well, no.  That's the thing.  I'm sort of happy with the one that I have."

Her:  "I just don't understand.  It can't work."

Me:  "There are a whole bunch of people who have made it work.  They're called 'China.'"

Her:  "Does your husband want another?"

Me:  (I'm starting to tire of this conversation.)  "He's seventh of eight, and he doesn't want another one."

Her:  "Don't you?"

Me:  "No, not really.  No.  Plus, look, G. - I don't even have a REAL JOB.  How would I afford even more daycare?  My beloved is an entrepreneur.  It's just not in the cards."

Her:  "But maybe later?"

Me:  "Um."  I shrug.  What does she want from me? "You know as well as I do that the brunt of it will be on me.  I've got to want it to do it, G."

This stops her.  She does know.  She does know that despite the father's best intention, it is generally the mother who worries about nutrition labels, knows exactly whom to invite to the birthday parties and why, when to make doctor and dentist appointments and how far in advance to Ebay the playclothes to get the best bargains.  My beloved does not even know what size shoes the little angel wears.  He knows these are all things I keep in my brain, along with a possible menu for dinner tonight, six possible job leads, my syllabus for the entire semester, all his relatives' birthdays and a reminder to buy conditioner that will go on sale next week.  Oh, and I needed to return the book Raising Your Only Child to the library.

Her:  "Well, I would never tell another woman how to live her life."

Me: (shocked silence)

So I took this last comment back with me to my prairie dog hole in the cube farm.  I looked at the editor, who sits across from me. 

Me:  "Do you have kids?"

Editor:  "Um, no."

Me:  "Do people ever ask you why not?"

Editor:  "Um, no.  I might have to kill them."

Me:  "Why does everyone tell me I need to procreate again just because I managed to do it once?"

Editor:  "Really?  That's so rude.  That's like asking someone when they're going to get married."

Me:  "Yeah."

Editor:  "I think you should tell them you can't have another because it would interfere with your drinking."

I think I love her.