Friday, November 23, 2007


Magic Baby will be 2 in February. This means I've started to get the "When's the next one?" questions. (Actually, I started getting those a little while ago, but at the time I was still nursing the baby. Looking for a way to get those annoying people to bugger off? Tell them your doctor said you should wait until you've stopped lactating. That'll have them changing the subject. After an awkward pause, of course.) Hubby and I have been discussing it (without getting into detail, we've even taken the necessary steps with the doctor) and theoretically it's possible I could get pregnant any day now. The thing is, I'm not sure. With Magic Baby I knew 100% that I wanted a baby right then, even though the timing wasn't perfect. (I had just gotten accepted into a one-year Master's program in Education of the Deaf at a school two hours away. I was actually living there over the summer, taking my first semester of classes when I found out I was pregnant.) I wanted to be a mom. I wanted the cute baby smell and the soft baby skin. I wanted the tiny baby clothes and I wanted to have a "nursery." That's not to say I was naive. I started babysitting when I was 10. I have a million younger cousins and I spent most of my free time in high school watching at least one of them. Plus, I had helped Hubby with Big Sister all along. So it's not like I didn't know about the other side of kids. I knew about the poop. And how they never seem to want to go to sleep, no matter how tired and cranky they are. I knew about temper tantrums and spit up. I had gone through it all, and I was ready.
So, back to when I found out I was pregnant. I was thrilled! I took a hiatus from college, finished student teaching for my first Master's and started the stay-at-home mom gig. Obviously, it hasn't always been easy. My son is very much a boy. A rambunctious boy who is ALWAYS INTO EVERYTHING, and he certainly keeps me busy, but I honestly enjoy him, and everything about being a mom. (Well, almost everything. The saggy boobs I could do without, but I believe I may have mentioned that before.) The thing is, now that I have Magic Baby and Big Sister, I'm not sure about having more. I have always pictured myself surrounded by, like twelve kids, and some days I think this would be perfect. Other times I'm not sure I want things to change from the way they are now. And here's the crazy thing: It's not for any of the usual, normal reasons. It's not because kids are a ton of work, or because I'm so tired sometimes at the end of the day I can't even think, never mind knit. Or blog. It's because I really like having one-on-one time with Magic Baby and I know that time would decrease once I had another child. I also know I wouldn't be able to have as much alone time with the actual baby, either. I realize this is what happens with second children and that it happens every day. Still, I know I'd miss the special time Magic Baby and I have now, and I'm sure I'd want it just as much with the new baby. Also, I feel like I've just gotten to a point where Magic Baby is, well, fun. He sort of gets some of my jokes. He can do some things on his own. He's interested in things other than food. He actually has a personality, and I'm not too sure I'm ready to start over with another one.
Then, of course, I remember the good parts about babies. The (good) smell and the softness and the cuddles and the way they're totally dependant on you. And then I want another one. Now. Plus, Magic Baby is getting bigger and while he's uber-affectionate now, I don't think that will last much longer. I can tell he's going to be too interested in exploring the world to want to cling to his Mommy, and that's fine. That's great even; I want him to be independent. I just also want someone to snuggle with and care for. So maybe a baby is the way to go. Or maybe I should just pay more attention to my husband.