Crazy....

I. Am. Baby. Crazy.

Hungry. Starved. Ridiculous.
I see babies and small children in stores and I just want to snatch one and take it home ( in a non-pedophilic absolutely maternally obsessed way) and love it.
I dream of my fat, angelic faced, curly-haired babies. My sweet little boy with his father's eyes and nose and my hair. My lovely baby girl with her light chocolate locks, my lips, and her father's freckles. Think of the cutest baby you've ever seen and multiply it to the power of ten. Thats how cute my kids will be (well, to me anyway).

We have a plan. We have rules and a plan as to when/where/ and how. We have dates and plans and ideas. But we also have a baby bassinett, three boxes of boy clothes, and a floor mobile with cute multicolored toys to hang over our little darling's body to encourage them to reach. And I...I have hormones and unexplainable tears and an inexplicable obsession with Montessori schools and car seats.
I have dreams of pregnancy and a cute baby bump under by brown skin. I have dreams of holding my precious child in my arms and cooing him or her to sleep. I have dreams of my husband holding a chubby-cheeked angel over his shoulder and softly kissing his head.

We have names picked out.

What am I to do?