May I introduce you to the newest member of my blogroll: http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/
If you have not heard of her yet, if you are in the mommy circles, you probably aren’t checking your email enough. Her hilarious writings started with an Ebay post for a used baseball that sold for over $1000. More recently, her posting for a pack of Pokemon cards she was tricked into buying made the rounds of every active yahoo group I belong to, which totals…..5. (Is that all? It seems like more)
She has been compared to Erma Bombeck. I was raised on Erma Bombeck. She was really the only humorist that could make both my mother and myself roll. I guess that’s where the appeal is here.
Much as I love her and am entertained by her blog, I must be honest–whether she exaggerates for comedic effect or not–she is really helping me to come to grips with the idea that there could very well be no more Foster kids. Wow, that’s the first time I have written that, although, notice that the statement is nowhere concrete.
As Pickle has reached her toddlerhood, there have been days where I think maybe I want to do it again. Lucky for us, our financial situation prevents the serious consideration of trying again. By the time we got to number 3, I really felt like I had gotten the hang of things. I tried some new things and loved them, and want to do them again. Things like cloth diapering, and learning to use all different styles of slings. I want to have (Another) chance to successfully breastfeed with no issues. (Of the three, Pickle was the worst nurser of the bunch) It was the first time I got to play with girly clothes. I kept those and want to see them on another baby girl. I want a balance–2 boys, 2 girls. (I know, I know, I don’t get to choose, but this is my daydream, I can do what I want) I want Em to see me nursing a baby so that is imprinted on her for when she grows up. I want for Em to not be the only girl, to be able to have the sister that I always wanted for myself.
What I don’t want…Another kid. Not baby, I lurve the baby. It’s the kid I might be to old for. Sometimes I am throughly overwhelmed by the 3 (sometimes 4-dh) that I have. The logistics of getting us all out of the house on time to go anywhere is staggering. Adding one more to the mix? One more pair of shoes to find and fasten, one more head of hair to comb, one more bag of belongings, one more cup…..I sigh in dread at the thought. I try to minimize our family trips out, choosing to leave some/all of them home with dh if I can/he can. Sunday mornings is a must however. Sunday mornings are the worst mornings of the week. The catalyst is the hour in which they are all under the supervision of someone else, and I can look at dh and say, “Oh, hello,it’s you. Good to see you, how’ve you been.” To which, inevitably, he replies that he’s dizzy and has a headache. If anything can bring on that state, Sunday morning would do it, Post Concussion Syndrome or not.
The baby=easy. Diaper em, pop em in a sling and go. Bring one diaper and some wipes. Food will be on the go. No gear required, no mercury to chase.
The kid=cute, fun, but oh so much harder. I already feel like I”m herding cats most days.
Particularly today, when I have the first day of a head cold to deal with. That day when you feel like your head is big and your eyes are sandbags. Today is the day of not caring. I don’t care what you do, just leave me alone and don’t hurt anyone.
