At 18-years-old, it is difficult even saying I have true independence. I live with my parents - when I’m not living in a dorm at my college. I don’t pay for groceries or car insurance or even my phone bill but I am still baby crazy. Everywhere I look, adorable infants crowd my vision, especially when I’m with my boyfriend. I would never think to bring a child of my own into this world when I barely make enough money to buy gas each week but their sweet smiles invade my mind.

It’s difficult enough not living on my own yet, much less wanting a baby. To clarify, I don’t actually want to have a baby at the moment, but every time I hear their laugh or see them in their strollers my heart breaks a little bit for the life I wish I could have. I absolutely adore children. If I could afford it, was married, and owned my own home, I would have hundreds!

I look around me and see children being adored by their parents and I sit there thinking about adoring my own bundle of joy. I can envision my son playing with his toys and dressing my daughter in adorable headbands and dresses. I can smell the new baby smell and the stinky diapers that come with it. I think about how much I will love my children one day and know that waiting for the right time to bring them into the world will make my love even stronger for them.

It’s hard wanting to grow up quickly, get life on my own path and start a family especially when I’m stuck in my temporary ballerina bedroom waiting for my sophomore year of college to start. I want to get a jumpstart on the rest of my life and take great leaps that I know are financially impossible and just a dumb idea. Being baby crazy at 18 makes me want to grow up at a time when I should be “young and dumb.” It feels like a 35-year-old woman is in charge of my mind every time I hear their coo or see their clumsy walk.

Each video I watch of the funny and sweet things children do make me continuously “ahh” and draws me back to my imagination. I think about the future and it makes me crazy. I hate being baby crazy. I wish I could put off the maternal fantasies until I’m actually ready to have a baby of my own. It scares me every time I’m drawn into their adorable faces and think “I want one of my own.” Because, no I don’t. Not at the moment at least.

I try to ignore how adorable they are. I remind myself that raising a child is not all glitz and glamour. It’s hard work. The time and energy parents put in to taking care of a child and preparing it for this world is too insane for me to think about. Much less the money that is spent on them. There’s diapers, wipes, pacifiers, dishes, bottles, food, clothes, shoes, toys, books, so many things to buy I can’t even list them all.

Yet, even though I know how expensive, time consuming, emotionally draining and all around crazy kids are, I still think of my future. I think about my white picket fence. I see my husband playing with my children outside. The dogs running around joining in on the fun. Me, standing on the porch, watching how amazing my life has turned out. I see the future and I stop living in the present.

Being baby crazy at 18 makes me realize how much I idealize the future without seeing the present. I’m thinking too far ahead and not experiencing what is going on around me. I will never stop liking children or cast the idea of having my own aside. But just like kids, I need to live in the present. Kids just know the present and the past. They don’t think too far in the future. The furthest I have seen them think is “What’s for dinner?”

Is being baby crazy making me grow up faster than I should? Am I trying to fit the puzzle pieces that is my life before even I have all of them? If one thing being baby crazy has done for me, it has shown me how to appreciate my life right now. I don’t have a small, defenseless creature looking up to me for guidance and protection. My bank account grows instead of shrinks because I only need to pay for myself. My time is my own to decide and not my child’s. I am glad to be young.

In time. I just need to keep reminding myself that.