Rosanna keeps telling people she is going to have a baby brother. Those people then look at me with wide eyes. I follow up with vigorous head shaking and silent concerns that maybe she knows something I don't. Then, sometime later, I get the flow of relief - if you know what I mean. So far, my kid ain't clairvoyant.
She also regularly asks if I can get pregnant. I tell her that I can, but that's not in the game plan right now. I told her to ask me again in a year. You guys: I will not be shocked one bit if she asks me in exactly one year. That's how creepy little kids are.
So all this baby talk has me wondering and thinking and considering. Emotionally, yes. Babies forever and ever. Not because pushing them out is so much fun, but because that moment when the little buggar is lifted from your crotch and placed into your arms is unlike any moment ever in the history of all moments. I want that moment again. And again. I also want to smell fuzzy baby hair and hold a person in the space between my elbow and my wrist. I want a small blob of squishy goodness sleeping with head rested in my neck and frog legs perched on my chest.
Practically, no. Sleep deprivation was one thing when there was no one else to take care of and that is no longer my scenario. And can you imagine three- I mean four people in four different phases of eating? One gets a regular plate, one gets stuff that's mostly mushable, one gets a dumbed down version of the regular plate and one gets baby food. Also we'd have to basically never fly. Affording 5 plane tickets might happen once, but we'd have to drive home.
Yeah, yeah, people have three (or nine) kids all the time. Ask me again in a year.