Top Ten Reasons That I Won’t Be Having a Third Child

My husband and I were recently discussing whether or not we should have another child at some point.  We have opted instead to contact a urologist for a certain surgical procedure.  The following is a list of reasons why.

10.  Two hands, two children, I lack the equipment to slap a third.

9.  Airplane seats are typically three across.  As a public service for other travellers, I need to be able to be seated immediately close to all of my minion.

8.  Two are making us go broke.  The care, feeding and education of children is outrageously expensive.

7.  I haven’t slept well in four years and it is starting to make me quite surly.

6.   As wonderful as babies are, they turn into children.

5.  My sanity can not handle any more chaos, which increases exponentially with each child.

4.  I simply have no more room on my abdomen for stretch marks.

3.  Being pregnant sucks.  Anyone who tells you other wise is a filthy damn liar.

2.  I can barely keep the two I have from killing each other or them selves.  Surely a third wouldn’t have a prayer.

1.  Once you already have two, there is no time for procreation anyway.  Even if there were time, it would better be spent resting, because tomorrow is guaranteed to be more of the same.

The Project

I know I am not alone in having a husband who abhors idol time. Time not spent working, must be spent tinkering. If by some miracle, all of the household chores are actually complete, then there is time for A Project. Sometimes this project takes the form of long-overdo repairs. Other times, it takes shape in a hobby (e.g., legos, cars, trucks, motorcycles, boats, etc.). Sometimes it is as simple as the first “problem” a husband discovers upon returning home from work.

Rarely does said problem manifest itself as a surly three-year-old. That usually remains “my problem. ” Last night’s problem was the sudden demise of our ancient air conditioner. When I flipped it on and it made a terrible wrenching sound followed by the even more ominous sound of nothing, I patted it gently and bid the vintage unit adieu. Not so, my husband. The man who had already worked a very difficult 10-hour day entered the home, and was met at the door by his prattling daughter. But sensing that some device was malfunctioning, he quickly side-stepped her rapid-fire-requests and headed straight for the toolbox, thus armed to confront the offending air conditioner. Of course it wouldn’t be safe for our dear girl to “help” as she does with so many of my household tasks. Unfolding laundry in the guise of assistance may be maddening, but it is harmless. Think of what mishaps might occur with tools!

In a remarkable coincidence of timing, he surrendered the great air conditioner battle 20 minutes before bedtime. Then he settled in on the couch to read a stack of books to our dear girl before helping tuck her in. Ah, quality time.

The Soundtrack of My Life

Roughly four years ago, I started my battle  journey of motherhood.   The first time  I laid eyes on my angelic babies, I introduced myself to them as “mommy.”  I spent months trying to get them to coo out my name.  “Say momma, say momma.”  I jumped for joy when it was the first word they ever said.   Four years later, big mistake.  The word that was once so melodious has become a grating, monk-like chant.  “Mom, mom…..  mom, mom, momma, mommy…”  “What?”  “Hi!”  “Hi.”  This occurs exactly 7,000 times per day.  Now, I am really starting to wish that that first word would have been Da-Da.

Tantrum Lessons

My mother in law (no, this isn’t going to be one of those posts all you poor dears with dreadful mother in laws) is generous to a fault. I think it stems from her austere childhood, but we rarely leave her home without her thrusting some sort of gift at us. I do my best not to take them all, but darn it, she gives us good stuff! Yesterday, we went over to move some stuff around in her barn. Miraculously, she “found” a fabulous little lego table (ya, more likely bought at a tag sale and stashed away in the barn, awaiting an opportunity to further spoil us) and offered it to our daughter. To maximize the potential for us to accept said gift, she wisely chose a Lego-related item, which dad will not only approve of, but want to play with himself. She was also wily in her decision to offer it to our girl right in front of everyone. Thus ensuring that the child will fall madly in love with it, raising the odds daddy won’t be able to resist.

But it was so very hot out. 91 degrees in the shade.

Daddy and daughter share more than an oddly intense love of building blocks. Both have short fuses that nearly dissapear in hot weather. They meltdown faster than frosty in a microwave. She began to simmer when daddy made polite “oh mom, you do too much” noises (I knew they were empty, given the item, but a three year old lacks the ability to detect such subtly of communication). Yet things came to a boil when Daddy accepted, and asked our girl to thank grandma and grandpa.

Now I wasn’t standing all that nearby when the gift was proffered, so maybe things went down the way Grandma said (my daughter does say please and thank you more often than not), but it is equally possible that Grandma just wanted our daughter to have the gift and was covering her wee toddler ass… but when daddy asked our girl to say thank you for the second time, a gauntlet was thrown and so did our wee angel throw herself down on the lawn in a fit of tragic sorrow at the seemingly inevitable loss of this precious object.

Now we hold tough on tantrums. Tantrums = no joy. She throws one and we throw down. But from my vantage point, it all seemed so exaggerated and accelerated. How did we go from present to pandemonium in 10 seconds flat? I could hear father in law grumbling to his wife “stay out of it” as she plead our daughter’s case “but she did say thank you” while dad’s insistence that he hear her say it was nearly drowned out by the sound of the steam emitting from his ears. And I admit it, I sort of gave in to her by engaging her at all during a fit. I whispered in her ear, “darling, you are a good girl. I know you are grateful and will thank your grandma. the toy is yours, please don’t worry about it anymore. Just come with me to look at grandma’s flowers, please?”

And so she rose, dejected. A sad and broken child; cheeks reddened from despair and the blistering heat. We marveled together at grandma’s lovely flower bed, peopled by mischievous gnomes. Grandma joined us for a giggle. Then grandpa and dad made their way over and my dear girl said, “grandma, may I please have the lego table?” To which she said, “of course, honey.” “Thank you, Grandma,” she said. Thank you.

Feeling Guilty? Read on

Not sure if this blog will make you feel better about your ability to parent, or just painfully depressed about the state of child-rearing in general, but you have got to check out Parents Behaving Badly. Damn.

You hear stories like this (and, admit it, in the back of your mind, hidden behind your shock and horror there’s a wee voice saying, “whew, I’m not the worst parent ever”), but never before have you been able to bookmark a site that you can hit every time you feel that you have no ability to parent properly. Because trust me: no matter how bad a day you are having with your little bundles of joy, you aren’t even coming close to the idiocy (and yes, dreadful cruelty) of these so-called caregivers.

Father Knows Best…… just ask him

My husband is usually not stupid.  Some may even say that he is bright.  But when it comes to child-rearing, he is a blithering idiot.  Don’t get me wrong, he is a great father, he simply lacks the capacity to understand the child mind.  He doesn’t realize that when dealing with the under four crowd consitency is key.  Toddlers are simply unable to tell the difference between separate occasions.  To the toddler mind, if something is allowed once, then it must surely always be the case. 

My husband did not get the memo.  He lets the children to do things that I would never allow.   Some of his faux pas bring about behavior that takes me months to straighten out.  Recently, I stepped out my back door to see my husband and three year old peeing in the woods behind our house.  Sometimes, when a toilet is not available, outdoor urination is acceptable.  However, when a working, clean toilet is 10 yards away, this is not an acceptable action.  Of course, now, when playing outside, my son will randomly drop trou and relieve himself.  When I tell him that this is not where we go, he reminds me that daddy does it. 

Shortly after the famed peeing incedent, my husband made another tremendous blunder.  He let our three year old start the car.  Yes ladies, you read it, he helped the child put the keys in the ingnition and turn the car on.  “What in the hell are you doing?!!!???!!”  I yelled.  “What, I thought he would have fun,” my husband insipidly replied.  Well, yes, he probably did have fun, but that doesn’t make it a good idea.  He would probably have fun discharging fire arms too, but that doesn’t make it any better.  My husband then asked why I was so mad.  Even though I was furious, I realized, that he simply doesn’t get it.  He is for some reason, unable to see the long term ramifications of his actions.  What happens when he finds my keys, will he just start up the car and take it for a spin?  I watch him all day, but eventually, my back is going to be turned, and he is lightning fast.  Not to mention, now anytime we go any where, there is a fight from the back seat over who should be driving.  “Daddy lets me drive, I want to drive, Whaaaaaa!!!!”  Like I say, insipid.

When I relayed this story to some of my married friends, many of them said, “Yeah, Dad’s don’t think.”  So, why is this?  Is it because they typically don’t spend as much time with the kids?  Is it because males as a species don’t consider consequence?  Is it a flaw in the Y chromosome?  If we can put a man on the moon, can’t we make smarter dads?

Bored Games

I love board games.  I do.  I love to spend an evening playing Scrabble, or Trivial Pusuit.  I was so excited when my children became old enought to start playing board games.  Lucky for me, they love them too.  Their little faces light up at the prospect of Candyland, Chutes and Ladders can squelch almost any tears and a card game can make fights end. 

So, what’s the problem?  Childrens games can become down right painful for adults.  Fights erupt over who will win.  Arguments arise over what color pawn to be.  A single game can last roughly eight months.  My oldest refuses to land on a square that is not his favorite color du jour, my youngest only wants to land on the spot where his brother is, and the second I get close to the end, I pull a card that sends me back to the beginning.  While I understand that soon, they will be able to play correctly, I have come up with a few alternative ways to play games that have cut down on the drama associated with game play.  In games where cards are drawn, half of the deck can be removed to help speed up play.  Trust me, small children do not have the attention span to sit through lengthy games, consequently, neither do I.  Rules can always be altered to help move along a game, as long as everyone plays by the same rules, the integrity of the game is not altered.  A family game night is only fun if you don’t require medication to get through it.   

Tantrums for an Audience

Anyone with a toddler knows that the smallest change to routine can spell disater for the tiny little obsessive compulsives.  I just hosted a family reunion of sorts where five of my relatives stayed in my home for roughly ten days.  While the entire visit went very well, my toddler did manage to horify and embarrass me (as toddlers often will).  While I was thrilled with how well my children were able to share toys with their cousin, I was horrified at the bad attitudes they displayed when they didn’t get their way. 

When we decided to go on a local sight seeing trip, my three year old demanded to go back home because he wanted to play instead.  When we did not comply with his wishes, he cried and threw a fit.  I was absolutley mortified.  I could not believe that he would act that way in front of everyone.   While  this was by no means his first tantrum, I was left feeling as if I had failed as a mother.  I have never given in to a tantrum or toddler whim, so when will he learn that tantrums don’t bring results, only ire?  How will I ever break the tantrum?  I have ignored, yelled,  and punished, but I can’t seem to crack the  bad behavior.  Bad behavior that is by the way much more damning when witnessed by all of your relatives, who by the way have the most well behaved child on the planet. 

Mothers Eating Bon Bons

At the kiddy pool, one mom brags to another that her daughter can recite the alphabet. Another rebuts with how her boy knows how to spell his polysyllabic name. Still a third ups the ante with her child’s ability to recite their home number. The last one remarked on her husband’s shock when he asked the child this question and the three year old promptly responded, with area code. “Where did she learn that?” he gasped. “From me, where else?” quipped mom. Looking around at the group of us she said, “in between the bon bons I do get a few things done every day.”

Begging to Differ

We just returned from a family vacation in Hershey, PA. As you’ve already guessed from the name, this is where you’ll find the chocolate factory. It is also the home of one of the most little-kid friendly amusement parks ever. No, it isn’t all rinky-dink rides. There are coasters large enough for the biggest thrill seekers, with stuff ranging  right down to those cute little carny rides. The best part, though are the scaled-down versions of big rides, like the mini Himalaya and Pirate Ship rides. This lets the wee ones go on rides ususally reserved only for the big kids. Nothing like getting to do what the big kids do to really brighten up the day of a 37-inch tall human. Hershey Park has rides toddlers can do alone (or on which a willing and flexable parent can go with an infant), others they must do with a parent, and then different stages moving up from there.

What I discovered on this particular vacation–other than how much I’d recommend Hershey to a mom with a three year old–is what its like not to “just” ride the rides my husband and I both like (mostly roller coasters). Rather, we took turns going on rides with our daughter, which allowed her to try so much more than she would have with only one of us. It also “forced” each of us to do things we otherwise probably wouldn’t have. We each thought we’d take turns watching our girl on the baby rides while the other ran off to do the other stuff. Instead, we both found we were having so much fun with her that I willingly went on a spinny ride (disembarking only vaguely nausiated) and my pale husband spent 1.5 hours in the new Boardwalk water park, exiting only slightly burnt. We all had a blast.