Just when you think it's safe to go back in the water...

>> Monday, 8 October 2007

We took the Boys to the park yesterday morning for a run around. All was well with the world; the sun was shining, the washing up was done (me OCD? Surely not...), the children were happy, and Husband and I were content. Boy #1 was off in a world of his own, commanding pirates and rockets to attack the monsters (clearly far too many bedroom stories being read here) closely followed by his brother. Boy #2 is at that adorable age when he bumbles around after Boy #1, busying himself with sticks, leaves and various items that I don't like to look to closely at because they might have spiders on them, stopping only to fall over like a weeble, get up, and grin happily to himself.

Thought it was a good moment to raise the issue of my raging hormones with my beloved. It's not that I really want to go back to new baby hell, you understand. I know that for many women it's like water off a duck's back, but I found the sleepless nights and the accompanying stress of dealing with a newborn with skin problems (it's happened twice, no reason to think it wouldn't again unfortunately) too much to handle. Add to that the fact that I'm now 40 and feel that I would be playing the genetic lottery with Downs and various other complications that become more common the older the mother is, and I find that I'm quite happy with my lot thankyou very much.

However... the realisation that, as Boy #2 gets older, there is no new recruit in the family ranks to bring up the rear is causing me to question all that. And of course, no doubt Mother Nature is playing her part, I can imagine the crisis meeting now:

OK, Ovaries. Listen up! She's over 40 now - we're approaching Last Chance Saloon. I need you to start working overtime.
Hormones? You're just not cutting it. Try harder! I want double quick time from you; everytime she sees a baby I want her to start feeling like a competitor in Ms Broody 2007.
Metabolism? OK, you're doing fine.
Brain? Shut up. No! I don't want to hear it. Just shut up!

However, I agreed with Husband that whilst Baby #3 would be nice in principle he / she would need to be subject to a few riders;

a) a trouble-free pregnancy and birth. As if.
b) winning the genetic lottery. Outside my control - and a less than optimal outcome would affect not only myself and Husband but our two Boys as well. I can't do that to them.
c) it would have to be a girl. I cannot be outnumbered 4 - 1. And that's the clincher really, since I'm not prepared to travel to Spain for the pick & mix opportunities there...

So Husband breathed a sigh of relief, even though he knew that I still had niggling doubts about the baby embargo. But something is on the side of common-sense, it seems, as after we got home Boy #1 was so involved with his puzzle that he put off going to the loo until it was too late. And we're not just talking wee. And it got all over my favourite hand-wash top. Oh, the glamour... Then Boy #2 followed up with a broken night due to vast quantities of snot and a nasty cough. Husband is ill (man cold, poor thing), so I was on duty, and think that by the time I eventually got to sleep my dressing gown was a dead ringer for an ectoplasm-covered Ghost Buster's uniform.

Need I say more? We are so not having another baby.

Potty training...

Thursday 14th September 2006

Mainly uneventful although Boy #1 had a little problem in the car the other evening. This meant I had to wrestle the car seat into the house and decipher the instructions on how to remove the washable cover, and then hope like crazy that it didn’t shrink to doll size when I put it in the washing machine.

As I was doing this I did wonder, if it were Husband in this position would he go to this trouble? Or would he simply wipe it down and hope that nobody would remark on the even more feral smell in the car than usual? (Our car is a disgrace. Driving a purple skoda – I know, long story – doesn’t really inspire me to keep it in top condition at the best of times, but right now I look both ways before I get in to check none of our neighbours see me and work out who it is bringing down the tone of the area…)


Rebecca 9 October 2007 at 08:02  

what??! no more morning sickness...no more disrupted nights waking 400 times to feed a baby, no more mastitis, no more feeling smothered by a breastfeeding baby that no one else can feed, no more nappies and wipes and sippy cups and all that funky baby paraphernalia, no more....potty training!!!

How could you!

Mya 9 October 2007 at 08:24  

Don't worry - it's a momentary wobble - it will pass! Two boys alone would finish me off. And don't listen to your ovaries - they tend towards exaggerration and hysterics.

Mya x

Potty Mummy 9 October 2007 at 09:45  

Rebecca, thankyou. You just reminded me of yet more good reasons why to maintain the status quo. Am sure my husband would hug you if you weren't so far away...

Hi Mya, you're right, ovaries are not to be trusted. And I know that plenty of mums have more than two boys to handle (Rebecca, for example), but do not want to be one of them. I mean, it's fine now, but just imagine when they hit adolescence? It's going to be ugly... Will definitely have to be back at work by then...

Iota 14 October 2007 at 19:32  

But think of all that expertise you have painstakingly built up. What a waste.

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