Two
It's begun. The other girls who had babies around the same time as Cal was born are starting to sport baby #2 bumps. They pat their soft little podges and smile blissfully at the mere mention of the word sibling.
I scan their faces trying to detect a crack in the veneer of contentedness, a flicker of something that'll give them away. Aren't you terrified, I wonder. Doesn't the mere thought of even less time to yourself make you want to take a long walk off a short pier, as Dad would say?
The 15 month olds stumble, peanut-butter fisted, into their mothers' podges and ask to be picked up, again. The mother's faces soften to a similar state of puddingy contentedness as they make room on their laps. They look genuinely happy. It bewilders me.
That's how I know we're not having #2 anytime soon. Both David and I are in a state of celebration this month now that Cal can totter around on his own. Regaining the use of both our hands, and the few extra centimeters between him and us have done wonders for everyone. It feels as though the winter of our parenting discontent is over. Now we're having fun.
I'm pretty in love with being Cal's mum at the mo. There's a lot of giggling and ball throwing and running and excited stomping happening. There's exuberant eating and full nights of sleep. There's naked hour after his bath. There's sooo many kisses and cuddles. I can see the cogs turning in his head as he understands more and more each day. He nods and shakes his head yes and no, and words are starting to make more regular appearances. Down, down, down is my favorite as we stomp down the stairs for another trip to the new playground at the end of our street. Just the two of us.
I scan their faces trying to detect a crack in the veneer of contentedness, a flicker of something that'll give them away. Aren't you terrified, I wonder. Doesn't the mere thought of even less time to yourself make you want to take a long walk off a short pier, as Dad would say?
The 15 month olds stumble, peanut-butter fisted, into their mothers' podges and ask to be picked up, again. The mother's faces soften to a similar state of puddingy contentedness as they make room on their laps. They look genuinely happy. It bewilders me.
That's how I know we're not having #2 anytime soon. Both David and I are in a state of celebration this month now that Cal can totter around on his own. Regaining the use of both our hands, and the few extra centimeters between him and us have done wonders for everyone. It feels as though the winter of our parenting discontent is over. Now we're having fun.
I'm pretty in love with being Cal's mum at the mo. There's a lot of giggling and ball throwing and running and excited stomping happening. There's exuberant eating and full nights of sleep. There's naked hour after his bath. There's sooo many kisses and cuddles. I can see the cogs turning in his head as he understands more and more each day. He nods and shakes his head yes and no, and words are starting to make more regular appearances. Down, down, down is my favorite as we stomp down the stairs for another trip to the new playground at the end of our street. Just the two of us.
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| Kisses and wine when I get home from work |
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