My husband and I want another baby so badly.
“Hell, why not? We did so good with the first one, the world needs another us,” My husband always jokes.
So every time we see a small baby, my ovaries (and maybe his imaginary ovaries) explodes. Seriously, we have issues. This is what happens when we see a baby:
Stage 1: You gasp
The baby could be three feet away, or three miles away. When we spot one, we gasp like we’ve never seen a baby before.
Step 2: Open mouths, big eyes
So we start getting excited like we’re getting a Christmas present when we see this person’s kid.
Step 3: Play with the baby
We will play with your baby, make faces, and say baby stuff, but we will NOT touch your baby. Because then you’d think we were creepy (as if we aren’t creepy already). That’s the rule.
Step 4: Ask a million question about your kid
We don’t really care if you’re in a rush, by the way. At this point, our ovaries are speaking for us.
Step 5: But we’re broke
At this point, we remember why we can’t have another kid. The one we already have eats up all of our paychecks. (No really, we have to get second jobs just to feed him).
Step 6: We remember the “terrible twos”, “crazy threes”, and “lost his damn mind” fours
My son was off the chain. He didn’t sleep a full night until he was 3-years-old (and we sleep trained him), he would cry when he heard a toilet flush until he was almost 4, and he gave all of his baby sitters and teachers Hell because he runs so fast. Oh, and for a full year, he prayed for Nicki Minaj at prayer time before bed. Yeah, our kid drove us crazy.
Step 7: I want to get drunk
The thought of his tantrums, his refusal to eat a hot dog because the mustard is yellow, or him telling our business to strangers (just because he’s a 6-year-old), makes me want to get wine wasted.
Step 8: We remember grandma
We forgot that grandma likes the boy so much that they they spend a lot of weekends together. Grandma is a big help. In fact, our son has two grannies and a great-granny, so we’re even luckier. He also has a friend of ours who has adopted him as his unofficial grandchild, so he has a grandpa too! So in retrospect, we have lots of weekends to ourselves. What the Hell are we complaining about?
Step 9: We remember that we’re broke…again
It’s at this point that I remind my husband that I have no intention of pimping him for diapers and formula money. It’s also at this point that he remembers that he does not want to be pimped for diapers and formula money.
So, yeah. I guess we could wait. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t practice. Yass! That’s my sexual chocolate, and I give it up every time (hehehehe)
But for real, we can wait.