Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Know when to say when

For a time, after my first child was born but before the second one, I thought I wanted to have three children. I was having fun and it seemed like a good number. When the second child was born he was a refluxing colicky disaster. He screamed nonstop for six months and continued to projectile vomit for another six months after that. My plans for a third were temporarily put on hold while I attempted to recover from the beating my mental health had taken over the first year of his life. I was a disaster and it took another year to recover from my PTSD of his infancy. But eventually that passed and I started to think maybe, just maybe I could do this one more time. He was sleeping through the night and had turned into a sweet and funny little boy who rarely screamed and never threw up on my shoes.

I have several friends who have more than two children. I even have a couple who have four or more. I am truly in awe of the ones who have six. How do they do that? Everything seems to run like a well-oiled machine. The older ones help out the younger ones. The moms seem so zen. And then one day I am sitting outside my daughter's dance class with my son, who was three. It is 5pm and he is filthy. His clothes, his face, his hair, his hands - just gross. And he isn't wearing shoes. And then it occurs to me, I shouldn't even begin to consider a third if this is the best I can do with the second. God knows if there was one more that child probably wouldn't even be dressed, and most likely feral. The next day I started giving away all my baby gear. Sometimes you just have to know your limitations.


  1. Two. Two is my limit.

    (unless we are talking about glasses of wine, then maybe three)