So, like every other woman on the face of the planet, I constantly face the question: kids? I mean, sure, I’ve got the one.. and sort of loan-in an older version as a preview.. but.. more?
MORE sleepless nights? MORE fights over food? MORE melt-downs over THE WIND CHANGING DIRECTIONS WITHOUT WARNING? Yeah, so, we are definitely in the Terrible Twos, which arrived with not a whimper but a slight tsunami of shit, and I’m considering the black market of child slavery. (I KID.)(.. how much do blonde haired, blue eyed children GO for nowadays, anyways?)
I always said (and stand firmly by) not having another one until this one is successfully out of diapers. And we’re coming up on two (HOLY TODDLER JESUS) and not even broaching the P—y Tr—-ng discussion because, um, we’re just NOW back to sleeping through the night after the 18 month sleep regression. Also? I hear that there are daycamps that you ship your Huggies-wearing child off to and then they come back, eight hours later, in glorious cotton underthings. THAT IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. There are REASONS I got a second job.
And there are many, many, MAH-NEE days (lately) where I just am so exhausted and can’t IMAGINE having two of these things around. Like, two? Are you kidding me? People INTENTIONALLY do that shit? Oh, sweet Lord in a hockey mask, kill me now.
My child chunked a full Gerber Graduate pasta bowl at my head one night this week. I would love to say that I handled it with grace and laughed at the humor of it all (BWAH.HA.), but instead, I MAY have lost my shit and yelled and then he cried and the dogs crept outside with their tails tucked INSTEAD of eating the spaghetti-os which may indicate the volume and terror in my yelling. That night, after only eleventy whopper-bazillion more meltdowns over ANY THING FOR CRISSAKES, I sat down at my computer.. to log back on and do MORE work.. and cried.
Not because I was frustrated. Not because I was tired. Not because I was at the end of my rope.
I mean, I WAS. I was all of those things.
But I cried because some random click of my mouse brought me to a forgotten folder on my desktop.
And I saw these:
(The first video of the baby. You’ll note that the child has a head shaped like a baguette; a result of TWO AND A HALF HOURS OF PUSHING. Peeps who tout natural birth? Can eat my epidural.)
(Tony waking up within his first month of life. Look at how tiny and fragile he is! That lasted, like, three weeks.)
(Bryan always had the overnight feeding. Listen to the loud KAAATHUD in 0:26. It was a PAMPER SIZED LOAD OF DEATH.)
(Sorry. I have nothing to say here because I am in shock that he is only four months old in this video.)
(We still play this game.)
(This still makes me cry. Sob, actually.)
(Typical Saturday at our house.)
So I said all of that to say this: I’ve been blessed with such an amazing child and an even more amazing experience. If I got even a sliver of a do-over with another one? I’d be lucky beyond words.