Is it just me or is everyone pregnant?
My sister, Hillary, a friend at work. And another friend just told me she's pregnant.
Do you know what this does to me (because it is all about me)? It makes me want to have another baby.
And then suddenly I don't.
I see-saw back and forth daily. It's like I have one little baby on one shoulder telling me that there is no rush. And then I have two babies on the other shoulder telling me how much fun it would be.
This isn't exactly new. I had similar thoughts in January.
The husband isn't much help. A couple weeks ago, while we were at his mom's house celebrating his brother's graduation from high school, the husband asked Peanut if she was ready for a little brother. In front of everyone. And he wasn't even drinking.
I fear my hormones will go into overdrive when my niece makes her debut. There is something intoxicating about brand-new babies. The smell, the smallness, the itty-bitty-wittle feet that I just want nom-nom-nom on all day.
But I digress.
I decided I needed a benchmark to hit before we should consider having another baby. So here it is: When I can leave Peanut alone so I can go deal with morning sickness will be the day I consider another child.
Romantic, it's not. Practical, yes.
When you've spent 7 months puking, you have to plan ahead in case the second one is just as, ahem, eventful. But this time around, I'll have to take care of another little human. One that could potentially fall down stairs if unattended, or eat half the newspaper, or snatch the cat bald.
So until the day Peanut can play and not destroy anything, I believe she will be an only child.
I figure she'll be about 6 at the rate we are going.