It’s amazing how many people say to me “Oh, I wish I’d had ONE more” when I tell them we have five kids. It’s funny how you never regret the ones you have but many people regret the ones they didn’t have. Can’t give them back I guess.
I am also asked about 3 times a day if we have a TV. It must be an old fashioned joke about having nothing to do but they need to incorporate iphones and ipads into the joke, it doesn’t make sense in 2014! I’m going to have a T-shirt made up with the answers to all the common questions we are asked:
1. How many TV’s do you have
2. Wow, did you always want that many?
3. Goodness, your grocery bill must be huge.
Yes we always wanted a big family and the number was always five. SO, can people please stop posting photos of newborns to Facebook? It has a trigger effect on me and its not a good thing. The past week has made me cluckier than a chicken in a field full of roosters and I can’t stop thinking about babies and trying to convince myself I want another one.
What is wrong with me?
Am I mad?
Surely 5 kids is enough?
Is this a hormonal thing or an age thing?
I must be addicted to newborns because I definitely can’t put it down to an addiction to toddlers. I am asked daily if we will have more children. Generally I respond with “5 kids is socially acceptable, 6 is socially irresponsible”
I don’t actually believe that at all, I just say it to shut them up.
If I told the the truth it would be “The Big Guy said I’m allowed to have another baby with my next husband.” He loves kids and would have 10 more but he says that another pregnancy would kill me. Personally I think he’s scared because during pregnancy I want to kill him.
I’ve been pregnant for 4 years and 2 months of the last ten years and the longest I’ve not been pregnant for is 21 months. Uh huh! It’s been 14 months since I was pregnant with number 5 and it feels like a lifetime ago. It’s long enough to forget how much I hate pregnancy but just close enough for the 14 month old to be a little bit cute and to give me false hope that another may be just like him.
Like many, I don’t do pregnant well. In fact I’m possibly the most unwell and unlikely person to have so many children, It all hits me at one time and it ain’t pretty. In fact, there’s nothing pretty about my pregnancies.
- Most unhealthy cravings IN THE WORLD – check
- 20-30kgs weight gain – check.
- Fluid retention – check
- Iron levels deplete to nothing – check
- Insulin dependent Gestational Diabetes – check
- Inability to move off sofa – check
- Fashion sense goes out the window – check
- Complete intolerance for other humans, especially little ones – check
- Paranoia about the 32 week mark where I dedicate every waking moment to creating excuses to OB to get the baby out. He never buys it – check
- Baby drinks all amniotic fluid putting self in danger. This is clearly because we’re a family of drinkers and my babies like to start early – check.
This list could go on forever……
So why the sudden cluck? It’s been said that when you’re done, you’re done and your body and mind simply tell you that you’re done but I suspect those with bigger families are a different breed all together. The newborn thing can be addictive and having little feet around the house, even toddlers ones, is beyond delish.
My girlfriend who has 7 children told me this would happen straight after I had number 5. “NO CHANCE” I said. How wrong could I be? It’s when you hit a certain age and you think ‘maybe I could fit one more in”. Perhaps it’s the mystery of hitting the jackpot and finally getting a second girl? Not sure what it is but I need to get it out of my system …..
*POST SCRIPT – I started writing this post this afternoon. It is now late evening and since I wrote the post above, The Big Guy and I have well and truly earned the titles bestowed upon us by the kids as “THE MEANEST PARENTS IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD”. We followed through on the threat that if the entire roast lamb dinner wasn’t eaten (veges included) then they couldn’t watch a movie tonight. Needless to say, and much to their absolute SHOCK, we followed through. 1 of 5 kids watched the movie. The 3 year old tried to negotiate a deal “I won’t get out of the bath unless you let ME watch a movie” – it didn’t end in his favour. The tears, drama, screaming and general injustice and anger that was thrown our way made me realize what we’re in for when they’re teenagers.
Cluck has gone.