Truthiness Day 28: Ankle Biter

Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

Well, if I got someone pregnant, that would just be freaking weird.  I guess I’d try to sell my story to the highest bidder.

If I were pregnant, I’d feel irritated at the waste of taking birth control pills.  I’d also be a little bit surprised that I had conceived unintentionally despite the combination of the pill and my wonky reproductive system.  I would also not be too surprised because I’m uber-paranoid about this type of thing.  I pretty much test weekly and have a stash of 50 pregnancy tests under the sink that I bought from Amazon in bulk…hey, I think this is the responsible thing to do when you’re a regular wine drinker and take other medications that aren’t so great for pregnancy.  Okay, fine.  I’m also slightly neurotic.

Other than that, I’d be both cautiously happy and freaking out.  Having a second child in this house is far from ideal due to a lack of space and the constantly barking dogs who live upstairs that would totally drive me mad when they wake up my newborn.  We’ve already decided that it would be better if Jack didn’t have to share a room with a sibling because he will be going back and forth between our house and his dad’s – he needs a space that is strictly his own.  We aren’t ready to move out of this house right now because the rent is dirt cheap for the area and Jack’s daycare is half a mile away.  The other rentals in our area are both more expensive and smaller and we don’t have a dime for a down payment on a house right now.

Idealistic thoughts aside, we’d totally make it work.  We’re good at planning, arranging, and we generally come out on top.  We want another child but unless it happens by accident we will probably end up planning the crap out of it and so who the hell knows when it will actually happen (although I’m aiming for before I turn 40).

Enhanced by Zemanta

Questions of should have no real answers

Yesterday was one of those rare days when I seriously entertained the idea of having a second child.  Jack squealed with excitement when I picked him up from daycare and chatted with me the whole way home.  He talked about a mad giant who was “making so much noise!” and a beanstalk that “will hurt you because it’s pokey.”  He sat in my lap and cuddled with me on the couch.  We played rockets together, which involves taking various things that are vaguely shaped like rockets and pretending they are blasting off.  (We both must do this and the rocket sounds must correlate to the size of the rocket – “no, mama, you  have a little rocket!”)

Somewhere in the middle of hanging out with Jack I realized how much of a boy he is and how much I will miss these things when he grows up.  It all suddenly seems to be going by so quickly, just when I am really enjoying it.

In the past I questioned whether I should have more children (how many can I handle, do I want to give up the little bit of free time I have now, will having another child take away from Jack somehow, and do I really want to go through all the hard parts again) but yesterday I began to wonder if this is the last time I will experience all of this.  Until yesterday, I never thought of the question of a second child in terms of “what am I missing out on if I don’t have another child?”  The answer to that is much less complicated than the answer to the “should” question, but it also brings with it a whole slough of other questions – namely, am I okay with this being the last time?  And I am pretty sure that the answer to that is no.