What was…

The first blog you ever read?

The first album you ever bought?

The first car you ever drove?

What is…

The scariest movie you've ever seen?

Stressing you out the most right now?

One of your most vivid childhood memories?

Also, what are you having for dinner tonight? I need ideas. 

29 Comments | In: life, in general | | #

For a long time, I never saw myself married, never saw myself having children. Though my secret desire was always nursing, I dreamed of becoming crack reporter – a hard line journalist traveling ‘round the world, sniffing out stories and breaking news – the kind of career that would leave little time for a family. As I got older and became somewhat of a serial dater, the running joke between my best friend and I was how I was destined to wind up alone, living with ten cats and my right hand, ha ha ha. Yet beneath the hearty laughter there was always this part of me that wondered if living the life of a spinster was, indeed, how I’d end up.

For a long time after I got married and had the kids I’d find myself genuinely surprised at my life’s turn of events. I’d be washing dishes in the sink, Oliver screaming on my hip, while dinner burned away on the stove and Julia coloured on her bedroom walls with a purple crayon, and it would come crashing out of the blue to  hit me, straight upside the head: You’re married now.

With children.

***

Though I have two brothers, I grew up an only child. After my parents divorced my father remarried and had two sons, but my mother never went further than a long-term boyfriend. It was the two of us, her and me; there was no annoying little brother, no sister to share secrets with. I didn’t mind being an only – I didn’t spend nights pining for the sibling I’d never have – but I knew that if I ever had children myself, I’d have more than one. That was something I just knew, clearly, wholly. It was, quite simply, a fact.

For a long time, I wanted three children. Three was my number. I’d go back and forth about it in my mind:

Three’s an uneven number.

But wouldn’t three be awesome?

No.

But I want more than what I had growing up.

That's not a good enough reason to have another one. Don't be selfish.

But…

Three’s a crowd. Three means you’re outnumbered. Do you want to be outnumbered?

I did. Badly. I thought that having another child was my destiny, how it was Supposed to Be. Dave, as always, was on the fence, but I was sure he’d clue in to our parental destiny sooner or later. And for a long time that was the way I felt; holding on to those feelings felt right to me. But lately I’ve found myself feeling more and more comfortable with us as a family of four. When I think about us having another baby I have a hard time picturing it in my head – how we’d look, how we’d fit together; how different it would be.

More and more these days, I’m feeling like I’m done having children.

***

I wasn’t feeling one morning last week. I got the kids on the bus, poured a second cup of coffee and made my way back to bed, where I stayed with the cat curled at my feet until after noon. There’s a photo collage of the kids on the far wall – older pictures, ones with Julia and her glorious mess of baby curls and Oliver as a chubby-cheeked, charging toddler. I stared at those pictures, went back to those days – the baby days, the toddler days – the days when my life revolved around sippy cups and biter biscuits, late night feedings and blow-out diapers. Back to those nights when Julia was a baby and she’d cry and cry; those sticky summer nights when I’d take her for a 2a.m. drive to calm her down. I remembered Oliver, how he was upwardly mobile at nine months, and how life hasn’t been the same since. And you know, I wouldn’t change those experiences for anything – they’re mine and I’ll keep them forever, tucked close to my heart – but I’m not so sure anymore that I want to relive them.

I lay there in bed, staring at the collage of the kids, and I thought about how I was okay with that. I stayed there for a while before I dragged myself down to the basement to face the mounds of laundry waiting for me. And I noted to myself, as I sorted whites and darks and colours, that in terms of having more kids I do feel more done than I ever have, but not done enough yet to do anything permanent about it.

24 Comments | In: life with a family, motherhood | tags: family, kids, makin' babies, thinking stuff. | #

Flannel sheets on cold nights

Mornings when the coffee's already been made

Sad caterpillars and father/son art

Chocolate milkshakes from McDonald’s, which I lived on for several days after my dental tragedy last week, and narcotics-induced quotes, such as Screw you, I’m going to go be patriotic in the bedroom and I’m angry at you for making me suck on this doughnut

Crunchy snow underfoot

The sweet, warm smell of a load of freshly dried laundry

…and the smell of this soap

The dual-storyline thing they're doing on LOST? Totally love.

Those red Olympic mittens…I'm kicking myself that I didn't get a pair before they sold out!

Reading in bed

The saying six of one or half a dozen of the other

French accents – especially my kids'

A healthy wedge of McCain's Deep and Delicious chocolate cake with a scoop of French Vanilla ice cream

Miss Mary Jane

The way Oliver sometimes adds 'is' on to certain words to pluralize them, like chestis and scarfis

Listening to Dave's grandfather tell me stories of his life

Turning the Yeah Yeah Yeahs song Heads Will Roll up really, really loud

Wheel of Fortune (remember back in tha day when contestants used to be able to spend their winnings on like, diamond and sapphire dinner rings and big ceramic Dalmatians at the in-studio store?)

When I make a meal that everyone in my family eats – and enjoys

Dave's new tattoo

Sleeping, napping, snoozing, resting, crashing; all of the above

Daydreaming

Hoodies, especially zip-up ones

Julia's big heart

Oliver's infectious laugh

Dave's cocky sense of humour (pun intended)

and

Being a part of this rockin' little family

27 Comments | In: odds n' ends | | #