Before I met my husband, I swore I never wanted to get married, and I wouldn’t touch kids with a ten foot pole. Now look at me. I’ll be celebrating ten years of wedded bliss this fall and have kept alive two small children that were birthed from my loins. And not even, like, Chia pet kids, but real, flesh and blood human beings.
Truth be told, there’s a part of me that wishes I’d taken my OB up on his offer for a tubal ligation when I was on the operating table after my daughter was born. But I couldn’t. It was still so…fresh. I mean, she was just BORN. All I could think was “Let’s see if she makes it home before we close up shop.”
Though, I think if I approached my husband tomorrow and said I wasn’t done having children, he’d be on board for a third.
Three. Three children. 1…2…3. I just don’t think I have it in me.
I was the only girl to two brothers. One is my twin, the other is a mere 14 months younger. I never had any alone time. There was always another sibling.
My husband was the only boy to two sisters. Both considerably younger than him. So he clearly remembers a time when it was just him.
And those stark differences feel like the foundation for why he would be interested in having one more kid, and I’m completely done. Here are my personal reasons why I’m stopping at two…
1. We can easily get a table at a restaurant. Our little family sits nice and comfortably at a 4-top. There’s no need to squeeze in extra chairs, or find super-wide booths. If we had another kid, eventually we’d have to be put on a wait list for a larger table or cram ourselves around a 4-seater, fighting for elbow space.
2. There’s no such thing as “Two Against One.” This is something that still remains fresh in my mind. My brothers got along very well. And then there was me. The only girl. If one of them lied to my parents and told them I was the one that broke the planter, they had each other’s back in the treachery. In fights, one brother sided with the other, against me. There’s always that potential with three kids, but when you only have two, they’re pretty much stuck with each other.
3. Gender is balanced. We hit the gender lottery and got one boy and one girl. Like a perfect set of salt and pepper shakers. Which means that the balance of testosterone to estrogen is perfectly balanced. At least until my daughter hits puberty and all hormonal hell breaks loose.
4. The sanctity (or sanity?) of our marriage is preserved. Someone once told me that the experience of going from one kid to two was exponentially harder than going from zero to one, and I couldn’t agree more. While I’m elated to have our little girl in our family and wouldn’t trade our foursome for the world, that with her our family feels complete, I’m not going to lie and say that transition to a second child was easy. I certainly felt like I was unraveling at times, and my poor husband took the brunt of my batshit lunacy. I’m not sure he’s willing to visit that suburb of Crazytown again.
5. Man-on-man defense. This one speaks volumes to my sports-enthusiast husband. It’s much harder to run defense when you’re outnumbered. With three, I’d find myself looking for a referee and screaming “Foul! Too many players on the field!”
6. I refuse to buy a mini-van. No offense to those of you that drive these vehicles. But I’m 5’2″. I could barely see over the hood of a Mini Cooper, let alone try to navigate something that seats eight.
7. I like sleeping. Do I really even need to explain this one? Why on earth would I subject myself to sleepless nights on purpose? Oh right, because a baby’s head is the most intoxicating fragrance in the world and those first three days of a baby’s life are pure magic and the first time they laugh my heart splits open and…would someone stop me before I talk myself in to getting pregnant again?
Related post: 15 Differences In The First Child Vs. The Second