While my husband is en route to another city, let’s all have a conversation that involves him so he can’t jump in on it, shall we?  It won’t make him crazy AT ALL.

Waiting in my feed reader this morning was this little gem from Suburban Turmoil about that hypothetical next child.  Every couple has scares that prompts them to have that conversation.

Admittedly, I was the most unhappy and angry and bitter pregnant woman in the history of conception and gestation.  I was one for the record books, and I know that.  I was difficult, whiny, annoying, and .. did I mention difficult?  Because that one deserves two mentions.  If I were Bryan, I would also put my foot down that we are to have NO MORE BABIES.

In fact, we both agreed during the pregnancy.  This was the one.  The one and only.  No more.  End of story.  Period. (No pun intended, but YES THAT IS A FREAKIN’ AWESOME PUN.)

I agreed because I really had never intended to have any kids.  My being half a mom to The Boy was puhlenty for me, thank you very much, because how do you insane people DO this all the time?  What with the discipline, and the routines, and the grown-up-ness that IS parenting?

Bryan agreed because he worries about his age.  In his mid-thirties now with an infant is exhausting, and I hear two and three times a week about how he hates getting older.  Our bodies are just doing things we only envisioned happening to our parents, and it’s a little wake-up call that HELLO!, we are also starting to age a bit.

(Bryan, you could eat vegetables.  That could help.  Just sayin’.)

But.. the minute I pushed that little boy out, I started thinking.  And with each morning that he is all smiles and drool, I think.  And every night that he cuddles under my chin before dozing off, I think.  All of this thinking consists of: I sure wouldn’t mind doing this again.

I’ve raised that to Bryan a couple of times.  He pretty regularly shoots it down without a second thought.  “I don’t want to be retired when my child is in high school,” he says.  You know, like the economy will ever allow either of us to retire.

But I still think about it.  Every weekend we have two kids in the house, I adore it.  I adore the noise, the way they entertain each other, the juggling of bags and toys and whatnot.  I adore how crowded those weekends feel, and how complete our house feels.  I adore that.  And want more of it.

I haven’t pressed it, cause Lord knows we are NOT looking to endure that journey any time soon.  To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve even brought it up recently.  Our lives have been plenty full without the thought of a hypothetical ‘nother one.

But the other night, we sat down and watched Juno for the first time.  And during the delivery scene, Bryan said, “THAT’S what you were missing.  You didn’t have really cool striped socks.”

I giggled.  “You’re right,” I said.  “I sure didn’t have those.”

He looked at me.  “Next time,” he said, meeting my eyes.

“Yeah, next time,” I nodded, pretending to blow it off but really thinking, I am the luckiest woman on the planet.