Two and Done. 

In my (limited) experience, there is something about your child’s first birthday which makes your womb yelp “Helloooooo!! I’m still here!! And I’m empty!!” We only ever wanted two children. We have two children. We are incredibly lucky to have two children. (I like to remind myself of this quite frequently). 

Bar any potential mishaps of the contraception variety, we have finished having children. And to stop my womb from getting the better of me in any future moments of weakness, here are some reminders as to why we are ‘two and done’:
1. The girls are a bloody nightmare at the moment. Individually, they are challenging. Together, it’s like firefighting while being doused in petrol. I mean, seriously, it can be horrendous and we are still a decade away from their teenage years. (Although at that time I’m hoping we won’t have to worry about one falling off the sofa). They want what the other one has and they kick off at the drop of a hat. Oh, the Drama. My poor other half is currently a shadow of his former self and when people tell me I look tired I tend to explain this is just what my face looks like now. “Have two”, they say. “They’ll play together, it will be so lovely”. Yeah. Ok. 


2. They have their own rooms. (Not that one of them sleeps in it). Sure, they may share at some point in the future but it’s nice that they’ll always have their own space to retreat to when they need it. Or when I send them to it. Separate corners of a boxing ring, if you will. 


3. I only have two hands. Oh, and they fit in our car. They fit in most cars. As does all of their crap. Just about.


4. They fall out. A lot. Unless said child arrives brandishing a whistle, with red and yellow cards poking out of his/her top pocket, another child would not make things any easier. 


5. Two episiotomies is quite enough slicing and dicing of anyone’s nether regions, thank you very much. 


6. I still feel a small, tiny smidgen of control when I’m out on my own with them. 


7. My last pregnancy was joyous but also scary and worrying in equal measures. It was hard enough holding it together with one toddler in-tow, I’m not sure my nerves would manage it another time, not to mention my pelvis. SPD is a bitch. 


8. Our eldest daughter is a sensitive soul and at a time when she would most likely be getting to grips with primary school it would be nice to be ‘here’ for her. You know, to get stuck in with her homework, to join the PTA (if they’ll have me), to be present rather than stumbling around bleary-eyed and covered in baby faeces while struggling to remember my own name. 


9. Our youngest daughter is a daredevil. If you build it, she will climb on top of it and teeter at the very edge. I need eyes in my arse. And I cannot see her calming down any time soon. 


10. My other half has flat out refused to have another child and I’m quite fond of him, so an affair isn’t really an option. As if I would have the energy for that. *Yawns*. 


I take my hat off to you parents of three or more. And Christ, if you were blessed (cursed?!) with multiples I applaud you. Imagine two stroppy, volatile three year olds. Hell, imagine two one year olds!! I can picture it now: they clamber onto separate ends of a climbing frame and are both poised to leap. Which direction do you run in?!? Towards the pub, I reckon. 

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. This made me chuckle. Here I am pondering a second!

    Like

    1. bungalowburn says:

      Fingers crossed you don’t have twins this time, Becky!! 🤔👶🏼👶🏼👶🏼😱😂😘 Xx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 😳😳😳 don’t scare me! Xx

        Like

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