Blame the two year old
Ok, so I should take a little responsibility for this, after all, I am the adult, so yes, maybe I’m a little crazy, but mostly I blame the two year old.
The problem is, he’s just so darn cute and lovable. He is just the sweetest little thing and at such a fun age. He’s two, but hasn’t hit his stride as a terrible two year old yet (besides, I think three is way worse). Everything about him makes me happy. His laugh makes me smile, his little belly screams to be zurberted, and his checks need to be kissed. I just want to hug and kiss him all the time. It is this overwhelming cuteness that I blame. Well, that and my reasoning in Kindergarten and A Vasectomy.
Whatever the reasoning (or lack there of)behind my thought process (maybe temporary insanity should be claimed), some how I find myself in the spot that I’m in today; 18 weeks pregnant with my fourth child. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy, though also very sick most of the time, but I do have flashes of reality that lead me to believe that I probably wasn’t thinking very clearly when I devised this “what the hell, let’s give it one more shot” plan. Even more perplexing is how I got my husband to go along with it. I guess we really didn’t have much time to reconsider the plan and back out though since our plan seemed to be successful one of the first two times we tried it.
My husband is happy about our pending fourth child too (most of he time), but he wasn’t exactly on board when he first found out. I guess the timing could have been better though. A week into my husband’s recovery from his vasectomy I sent him a text at work with a picture of a positive pregnancy test. It took him about three days before he really said anything about our new reality. When he finally did say something, he made a joke about our future with four kids and I knew he’d worked out any issues he was having. Maybe if I’d waited at least until his manhood had stopped hurting before telling him, he would’ve only need one day to come to terms with thing.
However we got here, we are all on board with the idea of a fourth child, even the boys, and we are almost to the halfway mark. In two more weeks, we will even know what we are having. Of course, all three boys are in agreement that this baby had better be another boy, though each has their own plan if it isn’t. My youngest says he won’t be nice to a baby sister, but will be to a baby brother (I think he’ll just be so glad to not be the youngest anymore that he will terrorize the baby no matter the sex). My middle son has informed me that I’m the only girl allowed in the family and if he gets a sister, he is going to fart in her (again, still probably going to happen no matter what). My oldest though has real reasons for wanting to throw the baby out and get rid of her if she’s a girl. My oldest doesn’t want to have a sister because he wants to be able to “show off (his) goods” whenever and wherever he wants to and he can’t do that with a girl in the house.
Whatever happens with this fourth kid, whether they are a terror and become the breaking point for my husband and I, or they are just a disappointing sister instead of a brother, I have my scapegoat ready to free me from blame. I’m simply just going to keep a picture handy of my current youngest at this age and tell everyone it is his fault. After all, if he just wasn’t so darn cute and lovable, I wouldn’t have wanted another one like him so badly.