There are four chairs at my kitchen table.
Sure, the mini seats like a million but it sure is easy to have one kid on each side and not have to climb my ass in the back to buckle someone in. Our house has three bedrooms (yes, I know we won't live here forever, just go with it). We have an oldest and youngest. No middle child. A boy and a girl. Most importantly two healthy beautiful children.
We will only have to throw one rehearsal dinner and one wedding and pay for two college tuitions (a thought that makes me already want to throw up for a million reasons the least of which is the offensive cost of college, we will take donations if you are so inclined).
We play man on man defense and someone always has one parents attention, or can at least vie for it. On a selfish note, I would be done with pregnancy before 30 and have my body back. You know, once I finish nursing E around kindergarten. Kidding. Totally kidding. Ew.
Is E our last baby? Is that the last time we will experience the miracle that is child birth? Cause I didn't prepare for that. I didn't savor it enough, did I? Is she the last baby we will bring home from the hospital? Did we already do that one last magical time?
And I waver. And get mushy and start to second guess everything I mentioned above.
Here's what I know. No planned babies for us this year. Possibly not ever. Because wanting to have another baby is different from having another child. It's got nothing to do with juggling it all and everything to do with us being complete.
Plus, where would they sit?
The Best part? Being perfectly content, happy, ecstatic and in love with the status quo. Oh and turning 30 tomorrow.
Happy weekend friends. xoxo