This morning in the car Little Missy asked if she and G could have a baby brother after this baby comes. The conversation goes along with one we had a few weeks ago when the kids were in the backseat of The Beast and told me that Baby Tres could sit by the door and Baby Brother could sit in the middle. So exciting!
I have to say, their excitement is catching. Until a split second later when I think about all the work a baby/then toddler/then preschooler entails, and I don’t even know what’s in store for us once they’re in school and then teenagers. But I’ll watch those shows on TV with all the siblings and how they all rely on each other and call each other a million times a day and laugh over dinner every week and doesn’t that look fun? Or with Hubby’s siblings, four boys who genuinely enjoy each other and laugh hard at their stories.
With each successive kid it’s all about how much more of MY time I am willing to give up. How much selfish time (and not in a bad way) do I need to stay a sane mother and wife and human being? Those moms with lots of kids have little time to themselves but apparently that’s all they need to stay level-headed. Am I built that way? Or am I built to need more time that does not involve ever-lengthening and thought-provoking questions from preschoolers and playing dollies and wiping butts and burping?
I just don’t know.