The time is upon us... erm, wait. How do I begin this post?
Quinn is almost 10 months old. He is adorable. He is fun. He is so stinking lovable. He is amazing. He is wonderful. All three of our boys are wonderful.
Hubs is dying to have another (actually another *several*). I, in so many ways, LOVE this idea. But that's the thing. Do I understand the reality of this? I came to terms with the fact that going from 2 children to 3 children was the biggest adjustment of my life. Some days I think "I've got my hands full already, so, meh, what the hell?". Other days I think things like, "I am getting wayyy too old for this. Physically it's harder, emotionally it's harder to do by myself and sleep is far more precious now than in my younger days!" And quite frankly, plenty of days I actually say to myself, "Wow, what a failure (sort of jokingly) I am today. I suck at this!"
Hubs gets so frustrated when I share the bad stuff with him and he gently reminds me that raising kids and managing a house is hard to do alone, even with only one child. He reminds me that he is proud of me, that he appreciates me, and that above all, the kids and I are the most important things in his life. We are his greatest source of joy. I like this part because then he starts listing off the things I never think he notices or cares much about (like always making sure there is food in the crockpot for him at any given hour, I make sure he has clean drawers ;), etc.)
He also takes time to point out how rotten our children are sometimes and highlights the fact that I have more grace than I give myself credit for. He tells me to stop blaming myself for the hundreds of things the kids do on any given day that cause frustration. He tells me I am not a bad mom, that kids are a challenge and especially when they know how to wear a person down until they have no fight left to be the enforcer and daddy's not home!
All of these conversations help me love him more, but especially help me love myself more. I genuinely love being a mother. Not to go psychological here, but I never got to have a close relationship with my mother. My parents divorced when I was 5 and I was raised by a single dad, until he died when I was 14. I never got to have a morning where I woke up and my parents were in the kitchen making breakfast.. or looking into the crowd at one of my sporting events to see both of my parents cheering me on, together. I don't even have to go into the holidays and how I don't have a single memory of a Christmas or Thanksgiving with both parents. I'm sure I sound like a million other people in the world, but to me, I promised myself that I would create those memories for my kids. I also vowed that my family would be my number one priority in life. I know I will never be rich, but know that my life will be fulfilled by the years of memories with my husband and children.
I became a mother at 22. If I had another baby-RIGHT NOW-I would have raised a child at home, under my roof, for THIRTY YEARS by the time the new baby graduated high school. Sometimes I worry that there would never again be "alone time" for the hubs and me. There again, we don't have that anyway with his schedule and the children we already have!
I know that my children have caused more self-realization and self-reflection than anything else I have ever experienced. I love them for that. Although it doesn't seem like it on an average basis, I know they make me a better person and help me find more love than I ever knew I had in me. When I think about the fact that the ability to have more babies is diminishing more quickly than I care to acknowledge, it makes me stop and ask myself; "Would I be ok with it if I COULDN'T have another?"
Guess it's time to talk to big man. (And no, I don't mean the hubs!)