So do you know where your kids were "made"

Having no kids of my own, (and no plan to in the near future!) I was more than a little embarrased recently. I went to a (former) senior collegues house for what was a lovely day. I admired a beautiful rug in the living room and he told me that “he made two kids there”. Well that was definatly well in the TMI zone, and it got worse when later we were watching TV and his daughter (one of 4 kids) chose to sit on that very rug.

I suspect he could have been kidding, but outside of those who had kids due to one night stands etc, do you really remember where your kids were started?

Yes.

It was a shag pile rug, wasn’t it? :smiley:

It was a beautiful rug. His wife was beautiful, as was the daughter.

My dad once informed me and my brother that he could remember when each of us was conceived.

After he died, a friend of his posted on a memorial website his employer put up, posting a photo of him and my mom from that time period vacationing on his property in Nova Scotia and saying, “I think this is the trip where his oldest son [me] was conceived.” My mom glanced at it and said, “Nope.”

We were trying for Beta-chan, and my wife’s doctor had done an ultrasound of the embryo so we know the day it happened.

The Howard Johnson restaurant at 31 and the Tollway in Elgin, IL…February 14th, 1976.

Yes, for both of them.

Yes, for all three. But we don’t have that bed anymore.

For one yes. Most people don’t believe this but my wife got something similar to morning sickness within hours of the deed. She was also able to tell exactly where the little monster was before it could be confirmed by ultrasound. Long before she sould have been able to feel anything.

In a hammock in the back yard of a rental house in Charleston, SC, at night. Really.

*<male voice>
It was the middle of winter
And I drove us in my car
The snow started falling
So we stopped off at a bar
The beer started flowing
And your mother and I took the floor
But by the last dance we were tired
So I booked a room next door

So if anyone asks you
If you come from Heaven above
You’re from a one star hotel
With a five star passionate love

<female voice>
It was a hot summers day
And we drove there in our car
And your father was thirsty
So we had to find a bar
Well he couldn’t stop drinking
And he couldn’t stand on his feet
We had to walk to a hotel
And book ourselves into a suite

So if the teachers asks you
Are you from Heaven or are you from Hell
You’re from a one star drunken screw
In a one star motel

Yes if the teachers asks you
Are you from Heaven or are you from Hell
You’re from a pitch black toilet
In a highway Taco Bell*

Sometimes I think that there’s at least one song about everything.

I believe it, for various reasons. I know women can sometimes tell almost immediately.

I think the story in the OP is positively icky, though. Why would you tell someone who just came over to your house for dinner? Especially a colleague; now you always have to imagine them doing the nasty on the rug.

I have no kids, but I’d bet my parents wouldn’t remember where they made me. I think they shacked up in some hotel the few times they were able to get together. One of those places that rent by the hour.

^
A few shots of Bacardi tends to do that to you.

I believe it. My friend got out of bed after doing the deed and made a beeline to the bathroom.

Post hoc fallacy. Just because you get sick after the act doesn’t mean it’s morning sickness. Conception is not an instant process. It takes a couple of days, and it takes days or weeks more for the hormones to kick in and cause morning sickness.

Yes, I know the time place and date. I was skipping school that day and so was she.

My wife and I were just dating when we concieved Kiera. We were at a Waukesha Hash for the Red Dress Run.

Four years later, we convcieved Paxton after a Halloween party, where just by pure coincedence I wore the same outfit.

I’m thinking of renting out the costume to couples who want to concieve.

I guess it has zipper or a button down fly?

I got my wife pregnant three times, and I remember each time. Mostly this is because we only have sex 1-3 times a month, so there was never a problem figuring out which time it was. Every time was in our bed at home, every time was missionary position, and every time was when the sun was up. Our son was the result of a particularly hard pounding, and I often wonder if that has something to do with his awful disposition. Does he somehow know that Daddy was slamming it into Mommy like she was a two-dollar whore the day he was made?