We’re done having kids. Officially. We made the decision to call it quits after our second and, as I was having a scheduled c-section, the logistics around closing up shop were simple. My family is complete.
Two boys. Three years apart. And, at ages 5 and 2, they are becoming closer friends every day. They worship Dad but need Mommy. They snuggle and love and climb up onto my lap and they give me everything I have ever needed and allow me now to sit back with a contented sigh and say, “Yup. This is it. All I need.”
And, really, I have not for one honest moment, had a second thought about the decision not to expand the clan further. I mean, sure, I love the feeling of a sleeping baby on my chest, the smell of their hair, the sound of their gentle breath. But, most of time I remember that I’m terrified that their gel-like necks will break, that they’ll wake up and wail or that colic will force me to the local pharmacy for Xanax. I adore children but babies, more or less, terrify me. And, frankly, Ross and I are finally getting real sleep again (until 8 am on Saturday!). We have trusted sitters and can go out to dinner without worry. I can take a shower when both kids are awake and know that they won’t choke on a marble while I’m gone. We’re about six months from never changing a diaper again. We’re in the groove. Start over? No, thank you.
But, we went on vacation last week with some friends. They also had two kids. A little boy who was all boy. Like, banging into walls, rough and tumble, crazy, funny little man. A boy.
But. They also had Alex. And, Alex is “little girl” without being excessively girly. She’s sweet but not wimpy. She was chatty but not precocious. She was 3 1/2 but kept right up with my 5 year old. She took a liking to Ross, which melted my heart over and over again — snuggling up to him on the couch, dog-paddling him down in the pool, giggling at his attention. I don’t know how many times I picked up teeny, tiny little princess doll shoes and scooped them into a small pile and I loved it every time. A little girl. Cutie pie. Her parents have done a nice job with her. And, I was, admittedly, a little jealous.
I bought her a little pink princess bracelet at Disney and could have gotten her about a million other little things throughout the trip. Because there are so many cute girl things out there in little person land. And basically nothing for boys if you aren’t desperately seeking some ridiculous sailor suit or a black t-shirt with hideously gaudy designs.
Still, I’m reminded of one of my very favorite lines about having boys versus girls. It came to me from a male friend in Vermont who has only daughters. A father of two boys once said to him:
“You know what, man? I have to worry about two penises. But, YOU have to worry about the rest of them.”
I wouldn’t change my mind, of course. I love my boys madly and they (in the cheezy words of Jerry Maguire) complete me. They have completed our little family. But, last week, for just a few moments…
A girl.
Shoot.
Confessions of a Serial Swooper 