It's a tricky thing when my husband and I talk about having more children. We have both always said we wanted to have a hundred babies together (realistically, four). Now that we have two, it gets kind of tricky picturing it being any more hectic around here.
Because of a recent visit to our friendly neighbourhood paediatrician, my husband has gotten cold feet. Scary Dr. Robert said that having number 3 will change your life as much as going from zero to one did. Great. His knees are locked.
But what the hell am I saying? I can drink wine again. I can touch my toes, I can spoon in bed without a baby hanging out in between us. I'm so happy. But I just can't picture not ever being pregnant again (or giving birth again.... rewind to May 10 last year at around 11AM and I'd smack myself in the face for that comment). I wish I could look pregnant all the time. I'm thinking of stuffing my shirt from here on in. But if we wait, how long do we wait? June is 2 and a half and Rosie is just over 1 now. Is Lola (YES, IAN, SHE WILL BE ANOTHER GIRL!) going to be a million years younger and feel left out all the time? And right when we get our freedom and we can go on family vacations and stuff, we will start over?
What's right and what's wrong? Can I be like that lady on TLC and just keep popping them out and braiding my hair and not wearing mascara? Today I like that. Tomorrow, I'll want to go buy a bottle of wine and have a smokin hot bath and drink half of it to myself.
oh man .... women ARE confusing! I'm over this post!