Why I Will Be a Terrible Mother

I'm approaching 30, and Eric and I are almost out of the newlywed grace period before people start to ask us when we're having children.  In fact, Big E is already speculating what the child may look like (the answer is very blond, pale, athletic, and blind).  Further, Eric is giving me the creeps because he's recently started smiling at other people's children and calling them cute.  Here are some things I'd like to remind him of:

• I consider a 100 calorie bag of popcorn and grapes a balanced dinner
• I name my [animal] children ridiculous things (e.g., Snippy, Googles, Googles Jr., Nugget, Tater, Tot, Niblet, Pee Wee, Jean-Bunnay)
• Kidz Bop gives me a visceral reaction
  
• I'm extremely susceptible to kid germs
• I'm a social scientist and believe it is my disciplinary and academic right to have both a control and a test child to run social experiments on, like teaching them the alphabet backwards or denying the existence of certain colors
• I prefer nighttime muscle relaxers to responsibility
• I'm the worst cutter ever
• My daddy still fixes my problems
• I allowed a hamster to fall down the stairs and get head trauma
• I kill plants and just about anything else in my care
• I've run out of gas on the highway twice
• I believe the difference between a playpen and a dog crate is purely semantic
• I have a history of attacking our house with my car and laughing afterward

Exhibit A:

Is there any hope for me?