Happy Holidays, lets try for number four!
My husband has long stated that he wants a large family, something that, for a long time, made me cringe and blink at him in wonder. I have a younger brother and he is the middle child of three. Hardly a basis for a large family in my eyes yet, we take a step back and look at his mother's family and now the basis is seen. My mother-in-law is one of eight. Yes, eight!
We started our family on accident at a very early age. My oldest will be nine in March, my middle child just turned six in November and my 'baby' will now be four come May. Needless to say, time has flown like the Flash racing Superman around the globe and we find ourselves staring at the babies we thought would never grow as actual people (for we do not think of them as people but little living dolls until they are old enough to argue back with more than one word).
Some time back, I blogged on MySpace about my ticking biological time bomb in shock. I had never believed such a thing existed, that it was a 'fantasy' of those trying to conceive or regretting their decisions to choose careers over family. I was proven horribly wrong as, at 27 (since this happened before my birthday) I was suddenly feeling the wild hair to reproduce - again. At the time, such a thing was appalling to me, a notion as inconceivable as flying. I am not yet 30 and already have three children. I'm done - right?
It started as idle pestering and poking of fun on my husband's part who insists he wants five children (something I am still not in agreement with), saying it was time to have a fourth to which I promptly responded with a very flat 'no'. The pestering naturally continued, mostly in jest as he likes to pick on me and my oddities. For, you see, I am a person that does not really care for children, yet I have three of my own.
My argument there is very simple: you can want and love your own children and still detest the spawn of others. It sounds crude and mean, but it is simple truth. My children behave (usually) and listen to me (for the most part) while the children of others are not controlled by my words or actions. Thus, I like mine, but not others'.
However, I digress. While his idle and random pestering continued, so too did that ridiculous clock my body insists on listening to. "Reproduce," it says to me. "Just one more..."
Until recently, I was quite content to simply extend my proverbial finger to that clock and ignore it. So, why the sudden change?
As stated before, my oldest came to us by surprise. Congratulations, you've just turned 19 and now you're pregnant. Good for you!
My second was planned - for the most part - with a discussion that consisted of 'maybe we could have another one, a girl this time, yeah?' 'yeah, a girl would be nice.' Not five seconds later, I was pregnant. So much for planning!
My third also came to us by surprise after another round of pestering on my husband's part and adamant declarations of 'hell no' on mine.
The pattern: lack of control. We love our children very much and I would not change anything but their timing was, at the least, not quite what we had expected. As soon as we got one out of diapers (mostly) we had another one and at a time when we were not the most financially stable or mature.
Almost four years later I see us as now being 'grown' instead of the stupid kids we used to be. We're settled, secure and at least partially experienced in the parenting department. Yes, I say partially because at least one of my kids will throw a whammy at me on a daily basis. My daughter is particularly good at this (she's 6 going on 16 after all).
So after a great deal of thought, of self analyzation, introspection and a bit of out loud arguments with myself on my true feelings and thoughts I have come to realize that my body may not be as ridiculously ludicrous as I originally thought and that maybe it is time to start pestering my husband instead of him pestering me.
After all... he's the one that has to put the nursery together. Eventually.