Yesterday morning, I huddled under my covers trying to put off actually “waking up”. Jeff, who was reading on his iphone next to me, announced that some friends of ours had their baby at 4am. I think I said something like “Oh. Great. Girl, right? Good for them. We should send them something.” and rolled over trying to ignore what sounded like our daughter waking up. It wasn’t until “Mama, where are you??” that I finally gave in & went to rescue “the muffin” from her crib. That was when our son bounded into the room “Hi, Mama! I love you so much! I have to pee!! Mom I have to pee! I really, really have to pee!” (all in one breath and without waiting for a response). So I direct our darling boy towards the bathroom “ok, so go ahead and go. I’ll turn on the light”, and get our daughter who had evidently soiled her diaper, as the entire room stank to high heaven. At this point I’m thinking “(I need coffee.) I can’t wait until she’s out of diapers. (I need coffee) I can’t wait until there are no more diapers in my life. (coffee, coffee, coffee…)” And it’s true. I can’t wait. Just like I couldn’t wait until “the muffin” could walk for “her own self”, which thankfully, was around 9 months. I know what you’re thinking – I’m crazy if I was excited to have a toddler going wherever she pleases, instead of a baby who would stay put. But once she didn’t need me to take her where she wanted to go, she became a more manageable and much happier child. I never have been too much of a baby person. I had to be talked into both of our children. I love them more than life itself, but Jeff had to campaign for them – and I mean seriously campaign. He used to make me hold other peoples’ new babies, hoping the darling child might elicit the “awww, maybe I do want one” response. But that never worked on me, and I never understood how that worked for other people. I knew I wanted kids … in theory … but the debilitating morning sickness, the waking up in the middle of the night to a hungry infant, the dirty diapers, the actual birth… all of this seemed to be a great argument for not actually having them – and then just sticking to one. In the end, I am so extremely glad that I am a mother of two, I can barely contain myself – even if I am overwhelmed much of the time… and even though so very much is demanded of me before I have time to make the coffee.
So, tell me why when I open my email this morning and see the picture of our friends’ new baby girl, I go all gushy and say “awww … maybe I do want another one…” WHAT?!?! I mean WHAT!?! What has happened to me? Why do I suddenly understand this strange maternal urge? Is it because I do already have two, which is the limit that I myself – not Jeff, mind you – have set? Is it because I have temporarily lost my mind? Or are there other forces at work? Hormones. That has to be it. The ever evil – I mean important hormones. I have only recently come to terms with the fact that I am, in fact, over 30. It was a tough one. Sometimes, I still try to pretend that I’m 29 … until I catch my reflection in a mirror or a car door or something equally as malicious. But these “in your 30s” hormones, I suspect, are also the reason for me suddenly having the skin that my teen-age self never did. I guess I got lucky as a teenager, but as a result, I had no idea what to do about my skin – so I did what my totally nerdy self does with every blessed question I’ve ever had: I did research. Lots of it.
Anyway, I digress … I was speaking of babies. In all honesty, I don’t think it’s the actual baby that is the allure for me. I think it’s the knowing that said baby is a tiny person who will grow into a full-fledged family member. I never thought I wanted a large family – for many reasons – but now … the hustle and bustle seems very attractive. The idea of crazy Christmas/Channukahs (we are a mixed family, so we do both), huge Thanksgivings, and all the rest is compelling. I have this unrealistic, completely Norman Rockwell idea of how life might be with more children, and I have to say that it does have me close to revoking my “twos the limit” law.
I think, though, that – as is always the case with me – logic will prevail & I will come to my senses. Or I will be entirely overhwelmed in a few moments (seems likely, as the “muffin” who should be napping, is totally awake), and write the idea of another baby off as temporary insanity – or something I shall now dub “hormonal insanity”. In the meantime, though, I think I should stay away from that new baby!