STILL not surging. It's day 16. I tested myself last night and this morning to better pinpoint my surge this cycle. I guess I'm going to ovulate late this month (I hope I ovulate at all). Darn this timing! Once again, we're going to have to do it in my friend's guest room tonight. Awkward.

p.s. If one ever needed more motivation to get pregnant with a baby girl, though, all she'd need to do is spend time with my friend and her two ADORABLE daughters. These pink-dress-wearing, curly-haired, cuddly, giggly girls are what daughter fantasies are made of.

Crying children scare me. They almost ruin it for us aspiring moms — even for me, the sappiest of them all.

My husband and I were doing errands over the weekend, and we stopped to grab some lunch in a cute restaurant that had a chocolate theme. There we were, minding our own business, having a pleasant meal, chatting about work, and then, out of nowhere came the cry. We ignored it — it was no big deal. Happens all the time. Someone will make it stop soon. But it didn't. It kept going. We kept talking, eating, pretending not to hear. Then the crying got even louder. It wouldn't let up.

"Someone is torturing that child," my husband said.

"It seriously sounds that way. We're in a chocolate restaurant — what more could he want?" I asked, actually feeling sort of glad that we didn't have a baby right then.

Okay, I'm over the fact that we didn't get pregnant on our first go at it.

At work today, I was reading some new statistics from the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (seriously, I couldn't escape this stuff even if I tried since it's part of my job), and I was especially interested to read that according to their latest findings, a healthy 30-year-old woman has about a 20 percent chance of getting pregnant each month. I'm 31 (alright, almost 32) so I figure that if things are working as they should with my reproductive system — and my husband's — then it could easily take five months to get this show on the road. That means I really shouldn't expect too much these next few months.

No, I'm not pregnant (at least as far as I know). It's just that we saw Knocked Up on Sunday. I loved it.

But I've GOT to stop crying at these pregnancy movies. Yes, even through the hilarity, the vulgarity, and the graphic childbirth scene, I ended up crying about the magic of having a baby. I've lost it.

Oh, and did I mention that we saw it with my in-laws?

It wasn't all gooey sentimentality for me on Sunday, though. I had a fight with my husband because he was supposed to plan our evening with his parents and he left it until the last minute. Planning ahead is not one of his favorite pastimes. So as I was walking the dog on Sunday afternoon, he called me on my cell to finally tell me the plan.

How my dog has helped prepare me for having a baby:

She demands our constant attention.

She wakes us up at the crack of dawn.

We can rarely go out as a couple during the week (one of us needs to be home with her).

I already know how to coordinate multiple sitters.

I love her even after she chews and destroys my $400 prescription glasses...twice.

After a year and a half, I still get so excited when she poops and pees in the right places.