This morning while holding Junior he had such a big blowout it went through his outfit onto my shirt. I was in a public place and of course didn’t have an extra shirt for myself. So I spent the next two hours in public with poop on my shirt.
This afternoon Future President threw an epic tantrum that ended up with him getting toys taken away and him yelling about something so incomprehensible that I don’t think he even knew what he was upset about.
And yet…when I’m folding the newborn clothes to pack away to give to a friend, I feel so sad. I even told my husband in a sleep deprived haze that we should have a third baby.
But seriously, no. If circumstances were very different – if I didn’t have an unspeakable amount of student loans, if I was cut out to be a stay at home mom, if my husband’s job provided benefits, etcetera etcetera then maybe we could have a serious conversation.
However, there are moments when I look around at my three boys and think, yes, this is it. This is my perfect family. I need to remember those moments. And besides, pregnancy is the worst. And I’m old. So there’s that.