Back Burner.

My husband was roped into coaching football this year. It's the Freshman "B" team...a group of guys who couldn't quite make the cut for the Freshman "A" team. And now they are relying on him to coach them into better skills and hopefully a slot on the JV Team next year. You know...the REAL JV team, not the "B" team where they only get the games the "A" team can't/doesn't take.

If you don't really know my husband, you think he knows a lot about football. You probably even wonder how many years he played in high school. You assume he's got Sunday Ticket and is a rabid fan. Being 6'5" and broad shouldered, it comes with the territory.

His knowledge of football is really sort of paltry. He knows enough to yell at the ref while he drinks a beer and watches a game. And then we beg him to turn off the TV so we can go/see/do and next thing you know it's spring training for baseball and we've only watched pieces of a few games.

So coaching is a challenge for him. He feels bad that he doesn't know drills and plays. Crap, he feels bad that he doesn't know what a Cornerback does. But he'll learn, and I know he will. My husband is amazing in many ways, but his dedication to his students is one of his most amazing qualities. For those nervous and falsely pompous freshmen all fighting to be a hero, he'll do anything. Including dragging his family to the Wednesday night game of the Freshman "A" squad on a day that hit 116.

So there we were, watching him stand on the field and try to soak up football through osmosis, when we ran into the wife of the "A" squad's head coach. Her eldest daughter is in Luca's preschool class this year. Her other daughter is a year younger than Rohan. And she's pregnant with Baby #3.

We made small talk which quickly turned to kid talk which then switched to baby talk. First, about the son she is expecting and how excited they are. Next, to how nervous they are to have 3 under 4. That's 3 kids in daycare/preschool at the same time on 2 teachers' salaries in case you were counting. Which she was.

And then she asked me that fateful question, "Just 2 for you guys?" and I stumbled over my response.

If you'd asked me in those hormone-laden days and weeks after Rohan's birth, when I was flying high on my amazing little family and feeling like SuperWoman, I'd have insisted there was another baby in our future. Truth be told, I still feel pretty strongly that we're not done. It's almost like there's another little baby waiting in the wings, and on those days when Darrick and I both talk wistfully about sweet newborn peach cheeks and baby fuzz I can see it like it's a foregone conclusion. We joke about how maybe this next one will look like me rather than being another little Daddy Clone. We talk about how much easier it will be to afford the baby when Luca's in kindergarten, or even better when she's in 1st grade and Rohan is 1 year away from Kinder (i.e. one year away from us not having to PAY for his schooling). We let Luca muse over possible baby names (She wants a girl, who will be named Flower, of course.).

But on other days? Our life as a family of 4 is pretty sweet. We have a rhythm. We have balance. We have dreams of a future that involves long road trips and a 10 year anniversary trip somewhere exotic. We don't miss diapers, especially now that we're down to only using a few Pull Ups a week since most mornings at least 1 kid wakes dry. We have faith that just about the time we're done paying for daycare/preschool we'll also have paid off our car and all our credit cards and we'll be able to live without worrying about money for 4 days before every payday. We have a small car that we hope will last for many years and doesn't really have room for a 3rd carseat.

But then: pretty soon Luca will be in a booster seat, which takes less space than a carseat. And soon enough our daycare/preschool costs will go down dramatically. And....and....and....and.....

It's a stalemate. And I don't know what should be our next move. I don't think Darrick does either, so most days we don't talk about the subject at all. On a date night recently, when conversation was flowing and I looked at my best friend across the table from me, I had the courage to lay it all out. I asked him if he thought he'd ever want to have another baby, even though I was sure I knew his answer. I guess I was feeling brave enough to hear him say no; he was done.

He didn't say that at all. He also didn't say he wants another baby someday for sure. In fact, it turns out that if we're perfectly attuned in any way at all, it's in uncertainty. Neither of us knows what the future will hold, and we're not ready to permanently close the door on babies in the future. So for now, we're moving it to the back burner. We're committed to reaching some other goals together first, from paying off the car and other debts to some home improvements. And we're talking careers long-term and a possible career shift for one of us. I guess time will tell whether or not another baby will fit into our life, and I'm finally ok with the decision not to make any decision at all.

Teaming Up Against Me.

On nights like tonight, I think the world is teaming up against me in my best efforts to make some positive change in my own life.

Case in point 1 - Searching through old pictures of Luca to drop off at school tomorrow (the prints were done today and I was SO good and walked right up to the photo lab, paid, and walked out!), my uterus came under seige. Don't believe me? Observe:

I could go on all day like this. Seriously. But I will stop here. I'm just sayin', I'm pretty sure even my husband had sympathy baby fever looking through these. But as much as I want a baby right now, I also know it's not good timing. If we have another, I want another homebirth which means paying about $3-4k out of pocket when all is said and done, since my insurance won't cover it. On top of that, we need to wait until Luca's not in preschool ($$) anymore, I want to get to a comfortable weight before I am pregnant again, and we have financial goals to meet first.

But:

Right? Sigh.

Case in Point 2 - My husband has to coach at a wrestling tournament all tomorrow and Saturday, which means we are on our own. On our own, trying to eat healthy and not spend money for 2 days? Yikes. Can I do it???

Case in Point 3 - I am craving Mocha Almond Fudge ice cream. And there is a nearly full carton in my freezer. Guess I should go to bed to avoid eating it.

And We Dance...

(like a wave on the ocean, romance...)

We were cleaning up after our demolition/renovation this past week, Darrick in the kitchen and me in the dining area. He was dusting the things I'd removed from the top of the kitchen cabinets, then we were deciding where they would go: in a box to be packed away, into a cupboard, under the sink, etc etc etc. All I cared about was keeping him from putting them back up on top of the cabinets, which prior to the painting had been littered with all kinds of random shit. Vases. Mason jars and old 1950s bottles. Silver platters, two fine china tea cups, the owner's manuals for our dishwasher and laptop (like...really???). I want to avoid that happening again for as long as possible, so I was semi-overseeing his cleaning and helping him figure out where to put things, since his default in the kitchen seems to be "Leave it on the counter, put it on top of the cabinets, or throw it away."

He's working his way through, and suddenly he holds something out and says, "Can we - should we toss this?". It's a black bag, and though I know where it came from I'm not positive I know what is in it, so I ask just to be sure. Unzipping it, he peeks in and says, "Medela stuff. Pump parts."

Silence between us. In my mind, I'm weighing the what-ifs and wondering if it's silly to keep something like that 'just in case'. I'm also thinking this is the man who, after Rohan was born, told me he was going to get a vasectomy because he was done, done, done. And if we do ever decide to have another baby, couldn't we just buy new parts for the breastpump? Wouldn't we need to buy new parts?

But telling him to toss them? It's sort of like a visual representation of throwing away a dream of mine. Not even a dream, really. More like denying that little bit of my heart and being that tells me we are not done having babies. No matter the logistics: money, space in a small house, sleepless nights and 3 kids (hopefully) in college someday and weddings and cars and first dates and first kisses and first heartbreaks (theirs, mine). No matter, as well, the fact that we have two beautiful and healthy and bright kids already and wanting a third feels like not being full enough of gratitude - of pushing our luck. Even while I was pregnant with Rohan, I had this little voice inside (where does that come from? the heart? the soul? the uterus?) telling me this would not be my last baby.

I don't always feel that way. There are days - weeks, even - when I think to myself that we're a "Two and Through" kind of family. Days when my kids wear me ragged with the running and yelling and playing and wrestling and crying and throwing things and tantrums and attitude. Days, even, when they are the picture of charming, sweet, cherubic little loves. And on either one of those kinds of days I might be found thinking to myself (either because I am worn the hell out OR because I am smitten like only a mom can be) that two is just fine, thank you very much.

So, what do I say about the pump parts? Knowing, as I do, that it's not just about those parts, but about what they represent: Are we done? Can we let this part of our lives be in the past?

And then, he answers for me. "You know what?" he says, setting the bag into my hands. "Why don't you just tuck these away in Rohan's closet for now?"

Life.

On Tuesday, Darrick called me about 3:45 to see when I was planning to come home from work. He does this about 3 times a week most weeks so really I didn't think much of it. Until he explained that he'd taken a nap in our bed and let Luca sleep in there, and he was awoken to her crying and puking Exorcist style all over the sheets. Sheets, incidentally, that had JUST been washed and put on the night prior.

Once he ran her to the tub and stripped her down for a bath, he realized Rohan was sobbing hysterically in his crib. He went in to get him, only to find his diaper and pants off. His poppy diaper and pants, I should say. So into the tub he went as well. So you can see why he was in a rush to get me home, and also why I was not really feeling the urgency myself.

The rest of the night consisted of her trying to drink water. Then puking. The asking for juice. And puking. And then there was the strawberry popsicle. And red puke. And goldfish crackers. And yellow puke. And finally, she whimpered for me to sit by her, and she leaned over on my lap and fell asleep.

Did you know that there is nothing in the world more soul crushingly bitersweet than the way your three year old looks, her hair all golden and curled into ringlets from sweat, sleeping on your lap? I swear sometimes I look at her and think I can't believe I made her. I let her sleep on the couch for awhile, and when I finally lifted her in my arms to carry her up to bed, she smiled at me through her sleep and fever and said, "I love you Mompy*."

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Tomorrow morning we're leaving for Rohan's first ever camping trip. My husband wanted to go for 3 nights, but I told him we really need to play it by ear. We have no idea how our kids will do with the wilderness and the sleeping in a tent with all of us together stuff. We used to camp quite frequently before we had kids, and we always swore to ourselves that would not change. Since having Luca, we've been camping exactly once, and she is 3 years old. I can't explain it, but the idea of camping suddenly went from this fun, easy, cool-weather getaway in the pines to some sort of anxiety-inducing drama for me. Something about kids and bugs and wild animals and mountains and campfires...it all adds up to me being a bundle of nerves. I'm embarassed to admit that for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the smug tone I has before having two kids. But in addition to the anxiety, the timing's been rough since both our kids are late spring babies, so when the weather was good for camping we've either had a newborn or I've been really pregnant. I hope this trip is a success!

Luca's stoked, however. We went to Target tonight for a few things, and she came home with a Disney Princess flashlight. She can't wait to go out in the woods and shine it at things. She also can't wait until "We will ALL sleep in the BIG tent together and SNUGGLE!". Mostly, though, she can't wait for the marshmallows. Seriously, can't wait to the point that she dug a tiny hole in the corner of the bag and I busted her with her cheeks stuffed, looking like a little blonde cbipmunk.

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Work has been stressful and busy lately, and I'm finding myself feeling like I'm on the edge of losing it. I am happy, on one hand, to feel like a lot is going on and I'm needed and busy and doing important work. Other than my boss, I've been there longest, so all the newer people defer to me a lot and ask me a lot of questions. It's nice to feel needed. It's also nice to have other women (of all ages and with a variety of histories) to talk to about love and marriage and kids and work and politics and relationships. I haven't had that in a long time in my office, and I feel really happy with that. But the long days and limited time with my kids is really wearing at me. I need a few mornings a month to linger over coffee and Sesame Street while checking my emails from home.

And recently? Recently I've decided I deserve that. I used to work from home 2 days a week, but then we lost some staff and it was just my boss and I in the office. So I moved back to being there full time and that was a year ago and in that past year WHOOSH Rohan has become this 5 foot tall walking, taking goofball. And Luca is practically 16, it seems, and it's all going by too fast. And I can't slow time. I try. Over and over I wish for it to slow and for the days when my babies want to fall asleep while I sing to them or call me silly names like Mompy to never ever end. And still, the calendar pages flip and I feel a sadness at it all.

But when I am  home? With my husband and my daughter and my son? Fullness. Perhaps that's why I'm that annoying chick who waxes poetic about the cute thing Luca did and how Rohan is so deliciously adorable, and why I'm the mom who says being a parent is the biggest thing I'll ever do in life but it doesn't feel like work to me. Maybe it's because the moments I do get with them are what I have to savor, and I look at them through rose-colored glasses? Either way, I'm still trying, 3 years into this whole parenthood thing, to find the balance that works for me and my family. And I'm feeling lately like that's going to mean working from home more. Here's hoping the boss agrees.

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Tonight we met a friend and her son at Target for coffee and shopping. Her husband works nights as a police officer, and Darrick was at the gym. Her son was due 10 days before Rohan but came a few weeks earlier, and Luca just adores them.

We walked in and the first thing Luca said to her was this: "I think we're gonna hafta get me a baby sister soon." In truth, it's something we talk about a little here and a little there. Before we had any kids, Darrick wanted only one. When we had Luca, he realized he wanted two. After Rohan, he wanted a vasectomy. But 16 months (tomorrow) later, he has finally said he thinks he would like another baby. But a few things stand in our way, primarily a bit of debt we want to pay down before we consider more kids. It was nice, though, to have that conversation and to know that there's possibility down the road. I adore my kids. I love my family how it is and it definitely feels full. But in a great many ways, I always still feel like we have another kid coming our way. Even when I was pregnant with Rohan, I felt like this wouldn't be the last pregnancy nor the last baby for us. Maybe it's wishful thinking since I love pregnancy and birth and babies and kids so much. Maybe it's intuition or the universe talking to me. Hell...maybe it's my biological clock. But I'm not ready to completely close the door on possibility just yet.

I watched Rohan this morning, hopping and running around the house, all big feet and big hands and round belly and fat cheeks. He's got the body of a two year old, and I love it to pieces. I want to scoop him up every spare second and rain kisses on his face and tickle his shoulders to make him erupt in giggles. I still think of him and speak of him like this: "My baby." But in truth, he's closer to 'kid' than he is 'baby', and there is no going back. If we stop with two kids, soon there won't be any babies left in our house.**

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* Mompy is my new name, courtesy of Luca who also now calls her brother Romak.

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** You'll always be my babies. Even when you're dating boys I don't like or scaring me by wanting to ride a motorcycle or telling me you hate me and I'll never understand. Then, maybe, more than ever will you be mine.

Passing On the Optimism.

Rohan's room looks bigger now, thanks to the sale last night of the glider and ottoman we had in there since before Luca was born. That thing was the worst best purchase we ever made. Amazing quality at an amazing price, it was a Dutailier made in Canada and barely used. We got it for a song at a consignment store and carried it home where it lived in the front room of my ILs' house while we house-hunted. It was our first major baby purchase, and one we fretted over and researched and adored.

And then...we bought a two-story home. And said recliner sat untouched in the nursery as I nursed Luca everywhere but there: on the couch, on the recliner downstairs, at the kitchen table, on the floor, in our bed...but never, save for a few rare ocassions when company was over, in that glider. I did used it more than once to soothe a fussing baby to sleep, holding a precious infant body swathed in soft cottons close to me as I sang a song or hummed or shushed their tears. But as we looked at the things in our home, we decided that chair wasn't a necessity to keep around for the "In case we ever...." pile, and so it was time to sell.

It was with a little sadness on my part. I was actually resistant to selling, instead offering it to several expecting and new couples first (all of whom wanted to buy their own instead). But when I was at work one day Darrick listed it, and last night a man came to haul it away and leave me a pile of twenty-dollar bills in its place. I can confess here that I didn't want to let go, not of the chair, but of what it represented: our fresh-faced naiveity and the excitement we felt over this purchase for our future child. The joy with which we found the perfect place for it in her room. The professional pictures of her turning 1, sitting in the chair 'reading'. The feelings of excitement and expectation that all prgnant and first-time parents have. I was sad to say goodbye to that phase of our lives.

But the man who came to get it? There was some fate at work there. He and his wife are in their early 40s and parents to one son. "I'm too old for more babies," he shrugged, "but hell if that's going to stop us from trying for another!" Not evern expecting another yet, they optimistically and with that twinkle in their eyes purchased that same glider from us. And no doubt he took it home, unloaded it as his wife stood watching, imploring him to move it an inch or so more over there or closer to the window or maybe into that spot where a picture of our with her first baby will hang above it. Beckoning the energy of 'baby' into their home in the hopes of welcoming another sweet child into their family. And I was happy to pass that chair and the ottoman on. And I hope that sometime very soon, that nice man's sweet wife is shushing another newborn to sleep, holding it in her arms as she rests in that chair.

On a Lighter Note

Julia Belle is here! Born at 3:52 p.m. after almost 24 hours of labor (including 3.5 hours of pushing...my sister in law is a freaking superstar!), this little pixie entered this world. She weighed 6 lb 4 oz and was 19 inches long. I am SO thrilled and in awe, and happy for my brother who is beyond ready to be a dad and for his wife who's been wanting this for so long!!!

Light it up.

Darrick: "I'm not sure if I will ever want a third kid."
Me: "Yeah, it's way too soon to think about that. Maybe we can talk about it when Luca starts school."
Darrick: "I'm thinking you should get that LED* thing put back in."

*LED = IUD. I promise it never lit up.