I had a broody baby wobble last night. That hasn't happened for a long time. I was a bottle of champagne down and had a little browse through the boys' baby photos and BANG, there it was, the big broody-wobbly-baby-wobble.
My husband was out which is why it went on for a little longer than it would've done had he been here where our conversation would have been something along these lines:
N: "I'm having a bit of a 3rd baby wobble".
S: "Shut the fuck up, no fucking way."
I don't want three children. I'm bad enough at being a Mum to two of them sometimes without spreading myself even further. So what is it? I thought I had got over the girl issue, maybe not really. My best mate is due to pop in a couple of months so maybe that's something to do with it, although surely I could just get my cuddles and baby-head-sniffing in with her baby and then give it back without losing any sleep.
I think it is just the fact that the door is still open. I say to my husband relatively regularly that if he went and had the snip I wouldn't be unhappy about it. In fact, I think I would be quite happy - I like definite decisions. If you tie Stu down and stick pins in his eyes (doesn't everyone do that to get the truth out of their partners?), he will say that he would rather have the snip than have another baby; just not this week. We'd nearly made the decision (for 'we' read 'me', obvs.) a couple of years ago and then we went down the pub with one of Stu's best mates who had recently had it done. He tried to sell it to Stu by telling him that you get balls as big as oranges for 24 hours, "how cool is that mate?" Stu wasn't convinced.
I love my husband a lot but he will be the first to admit that he is a bit of a pussy (ok, I'm being kind - a huge pussy), when it comes to needles. When you start talking about needles and snippedy-snippedy instruments down near his wotsamagigger it sends him a bit funny. Bless.
I wrote myself a letter in a sleep-deprived state when I had a newborn and a toddler outlining loudly and clearly the reasons why a third child would be B.A.D. Even in this state of knackered desperation I love the fact that the letter started 'Dear Nikki' and was signed off 'Love Nikki'. Letter writing skills ingrained in my head by my Mother: I'm such a knob.
I also have a spreadsheet (of course I do) that I created about a year ago with Pros and Cons about a third child. I set up a points system (of COURSE I did) where I scored things from 1 (not that big a deal) to 3 (massive and life changing).
Some of the best Cons strike me as: 'Have to put sun cream on 3 children' - 1 point. This may sound slightly crazy to people that haven't sun-creamed two irritated screaming children twice a day for 14 days on holiday, but believe me, as I read it again I'm thinking of upping its points value.
When the BFF previously mentioned read this spreadsheet over a year ago, she questioned an entry on the 'Pros' sides which said: "will have more money when the cat dies". I was asked how much money I spent on the cat and I said that as he was so old these days the insurance was really expensive (about £25 a month). "Why don't you stop insuring him then?" was the obvious question. I explained that if I stopped insuring him then I wouldn't get the pay out when he died. Which is £50. I'm not intelligent enough to safely raise the two children I currently have, let alone subjecting any more to this irrational mother-ship.
Disclaimer: I wrote this as an amusing blog post based on a teeny-tiny wobble. I'm not going to have any more bloody kids. Please don't look at me expecting news if I look a bit podgier than usual at any point in the future, I've probably just eaten too many pies. Thanks.