I feel like everyone I know is pregnant, or trying to get pregnant, or coming off of “The Pill” so that they can get pregnant and I’m like WOAH!
I keep getting asked, “Will you and The Workaholic have another baby?”
To which I reply: “OH MY GOSH, NO! And if I manage to get pregnant again, it’s going on the black market.”
(I’m only semi-kidding about that last bit)
Sometimes people look at me like I have 7 heads and others just say, “ooohhh good for you”.
I GET it, though. I mean seriously? Check my children out. I have some freaking HOT children. Why wouldn’t I want to bless the world with more children like this? I’m not sure the world could handle another one of our children. It might explode.
Immediately after Grady was born I thought I might like to have another. He smelled so good and he was so quiet and calm and absolutely the best sleeper on the face of the planet. I was a happy and rested mama! Then he started crawling at 5 months, 4 days old. And then he started screeching like a Pterodactyl. And then he quit sleeping.
And I realized that I am totally content with my 3.
Yes, I said THREE. Many of my stay at home mom friends forget that I have Styles because it is only ever the babies and I at play dates. I have THREE children. My eldest will be 11 and in middle school this summer. Let me go ahead and remind you that I will be 31 this summer and then I’ll go ahead and do the simple math for you: I’ve been raising babies since I was TWENTY (20) years old.
I spent my 20s as a single parent, working two jobs to make ends meet, and going to school full time to better our lives. I was poor and often didn’t know how I was going to put food on the table but I somehow always got by financially, physically, and emotionally. I sacrificed my 20s to have and care for Styles; while I wouldn’t change that for the world, I’m ready to enjoy MY life and a little bit of freedom.
I’m now in my 30s, married to a man with whom I love spending my time, and we have THREE children.
I’ve been doing this Mom thing for 11 years and I’m ready to move on to a new, more selfish phase in my life. I’m ready to have kids who can stay with grandparents for a week so that The Workaholic and I can travel. I’d like to go a day without having SNOT on my pants legs. I’d like to go to the bathroom and wipe myself without trying to grow a third arm to keep the baby from eating the toilet bowl brush. I’d really love to listen to my favorite band while I’m curling my hair instead of the screams of my momentarily neglected children. And I know The Workaholic would love to enjoy a little foreplay without getting a mouthful of milk.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying the season I’m in and I absolutely adore my children but I don’t want to stay in this season forever. Let’s call this season winter. I’m SO ready for some spring. If I keep having babies, spring will never come.
I can still appreciate my friends’ brand new babies, coo in their faces, and sniff their necks. I can still get SO super excited when a friend gets pregnant and my ovaries don’t even begin to twitch. I can still get a little nostalgic about how sad I am that my babies aren’t really babies any longer and that I sometimes wish they would stay small and helpless forever. But nostalgia is up there on the worst reasons to have a baby list. I am capable of feeling the nostalgia and letting it slide right out of my arms with the baby when it goes back to its mother.
So there you have it. No more babies for the Banana Hammocks & Tutus family. We are happy as 5 and are ready to parent the children that we DO have instead of adding to our brood.