I have been through a disturbing few weeks. I blame it on Mother Nature.
Most of the time, Mother Nature has done the right thing by me. When Eldest Son chose to be born in the back seat of our car she sprinkled Calming Dust over Husband’s head, enabling us to make it to the sanctuary of the hospital car park. And following the birth of Second Son she sprinkled me with the Two is Enough Dust. From that time on new babies no longer brought on waves of gushiness. I now greeted new mothers with ‘you poor thing’ and third time mothers got the ‘was it planned’ treatment.
As Second Son passed through each milestone I went through a celebratory and purging phase. Nursing bras were binned. Bassinet, baby bath and steriliser were handed over to You Poor Thing or Was It Planned friends. A turtle step sat proudly at the base of our toilet and I had great delight in wiping up misfires. There was a celebration after my final day of kinder duty and overwhelming joy when waving both Sons goodbye at the school gate. I was happy with my lot.
But then one November day, whilst a small child was screaming hysterically in a Tesco trolley, I decided that I wanted one of those – another child. Maybe there was a full moon looming or maybe I was having an out of body experience. I took a moment to regroup but during laps up and down the Tesco aisles my mind was busy planning a new addition (or possibly two) to our family.
Upon sharing this with Husband he set about diagnosing what could have triggered such a moment of insanity. Theories included the recent spell of bad weather, too much sleep or the possible onset of menopause. We both concluded that it was due to excessive exposure to Sons of CF and Daughter of FOF. Ranging in age from eighteen months to three and a half, they were at that really adorable stage. So the remedy was simple – cut all contact with these small creatures.
However, as days went on the left and right side on my brain debated the extra child pros and cons. Was Mother Nature ill or on a career break? How could she do this to me? I am an intelligent, sensible person. Both Sons can boil their own eggs (but choose not too), select their own wardrobe and hairstyles. We can now holiday with adjoining hotel rooms and dine in restaurants without a kids menu. Our household could not cope with two testosterone raging Sons and a new baby.
And with this thought Mother Nature kicked back into action. With the wave of her wand I found myself in the middle of a mock WWE showdown between Second Son and Eldest Son. One was in a head lock, the other had blood streaming from his nose and I was squawking about the blood staining the sofa. After banishing them both to opposite corners of the kitchen I felt relief. Harmony had been restored. The I Want One of Those thoughts had turned to I Don’t Want Anymore of These.
