My sister is due next Tuesday with her 3rd baby. A girl. She's been pregnant a long time, most of the past 3 years really which is the gestational equivalent of your average pachyderm if we're looking for comparisons. Now, I love being pregnant. I really, genuinely do. After the first 10 weeks or so, I am golden until that kid comes screaming its way out of my tender nether regions. I knew it was time to have another baby after the Nub because I started looking at pregnant women all googly eyed and jealous and then approximately .04 seconds after discussing it with Paul I was pregnant too. I wanted more time to think about it, but apparently we are people of action.
Triple is approximately the same age the Nub was when I got pregnant. I keep waiting to feel that same urge, the green-eyed monster of the delightfully rotund and eat-what-you-want club. But thankfully, it has been noticeably absent. Several of my friends have had babies lately. These babies are nice. They smell good. They make those squeaky sounds that everyone likes, and we all know the Jedi mind tricks newborns play when they fall asleep on your chest. Rude. I like these babies a lot, but I am glad they are not coming home with me, that I do not have to offer my sad, ruined chest up for further terrorizing, that mostly the kids I already have will sleep when I want them to. I've even taught the Nub to scratch my back which is awesome on so many levels. Besides, Triple is a human wrecking ball and most of the babies he's been around lately he's tried to club to death like a baby seal. I assume he was hungry in all instances, so watch your back babies, I can't control that beast.
I've always though I wanted at least 3 kids, probably 4. But for now, and into the indefinite future, 2 is treating me just fine.
In the interim, if you need swaddling lessons or want me to come sniff your baby I am happy to oblige. As long as you use your own babyfeeders and I can leave when they want to do anything other than sleep and plot revenge on the night.