Are you going to try for a Girl?

“Are you out of your mind?” is what blasts through my head behind the pronounced eye bulge and sweet smile that come across my face when a stranger enters my space with that question.

No, no, I say, we’re plenty fulfilled.

It is certainly a conundrum to me, the rate at which strangers come forth with this question.  I am always surprised when I hear it being asked again, because I can’t really believe they are asking it. A more appropriate question (for many reasons) would be to simply ask if we’d go for a 4^th.  I mean, my 3 boys are sitting RIGHT here.  They do know they are boys, you know.

As I ponder this possibility of more children though, boy? girl? what’s the difference? (Hold your thoughts for the moment, blessed daughter-spawners.) Sheer quantity is truly where it lies.  These stranger-folk should ask me if I would try for a parakeet, hamster, or Rottweiler to clean up after.  This is a subject of quantity, of simply adding more to the mix.  Adding more to a mix, that I have sufficiently maxed.  My mix is maxed.  It just is.  

I am sure I am missing something hugely amazing not having a daughter to hang out with, but I know nothing else, so I feel pretty good.  My Sly Fox and I play a make-believe game called "Princess Party".  I'm the Princess, he's the Noble Brave Prince who saves my party and my hugely bejeweled crown from the Evil Mean King. He air-sword fights with his "Mad Face" on and gets the stolen crown back.  My sweet Sly Fox, loves to save me and protect me from evil, and I'm pretty cool with that.  He even delivers my make-believe cake to me to blow out its candles, then claps happily for me. He is a compassionate soul, who deeply cares about others.  This trait also allows him to be sly on occasion.  His inner working knowledge of how people tick, permits him to test his boundaries at times with said people, all with a twinkle in his big, fat blueberry eye.

My guys rock. There’s nothing better in this world than to love and be loved by your husband and children.  My mix is maxed and I'm deeply fulfilled and truly satisfied.

And so (trumpet playing), to formally tribute the fallen girls’ names, we bow our heads:

Larkin

Maeve

Fiona

May you rest in peace in my Baby Names folder, or at least until my psychic foresees our need for 3 female dogs. 

Caffeine

Caffeine.  Controversial amongst experts on the benefits and drawbacks of this magical substance, sure.  But in my book, this is the stuff dreams are made of. 

Margaritaville to Crazy Town

A story from early last week:

Today was the first day of summer vacation.  Today was the first day all of my children would be home all day alone with me.  Today I went to Crazy Town four times.

Let us back up two days.  It was a gorgeous Saturday.  Frankly, a downright perfect summer day, complete with a great breeze and zero humidity.  Epic, really.  It was a day for many wonderful things.  But today, I was going to my first Jimmy Buffett concert.

Why the Buffett concert going experience is not part of every human being’s regular therapy, I can’t surmise.  I have never seen, nor experienced, the kind of widespread happiness that transpires amongst all concertgoers at Buffett.  It’s a little freaky, all this happy happy, but man, I bet no one would require their meds that week, if they hit a Buffett concert. 

Hands Are Full

I have two weeks to get this story out before I no longer can compare myself to this superstar.  Her 4^th babe (an actual girl) is in the belly, so here goes:

Ok, I get it.  I’m not rocking Victoria Beckham’s style as she artfully guides her 3 boys through Manhattan, London, or any airport.  Maybe my long hair, (which I refuse to cut, because it is the only thing left on me that mildly resembles my childless self) looks a little ratsnesty in the back. Maybe my eyewear that was so ‘in’ 5 years ago, sits slightly (or not so slightly) tilted across my nose. Maybe wrangling 3 small people whose limb movements could make them strong contestants in an ancient tribal dance competition while I’m trying to check out of Target makes me look a little…..challenged.

Oxiclean

Simply put, you can’t find a toxic thing in this house.  Militant green living, as I see it.  Don’t bring your Red #40 anywhere in here, or your VOCs.  I won’t have any of them.

Unless of course, you have laundry in amounts that no human should ever consider when first walking down the aisle and thinking of the dreamy life ahead.  And when you do take on this Mother Load, and use EVERY green detergent out there to save your family, you realize, that each day your 3 sons coat their shirts with every meal, green detergent totally sucks.  And green stain lifters. 

Housewives' Knees

"Housewives’ Knees” is something I need to get off my chest.  Actually, I really need to get it off my knees, but anyhow…..

If you have this condition, I’m sorry.  It seems this can be part of the post-childbearing body alteration that makes you jump with fright as you inadvertently pass a mirror. Amidst the varicose and spider veins that have multiplied like fruit flies on your legs, somehow your knees look like you haven’t showered in 3 years due to the brown knobby patches on them.

So You Want 3?

Here’s the deal.  You’ve got it totally together:  A super-independent, rule-abiding, encyclopedia-reading 4 year-old - let’s call him the “Professor”, and a creative, sweet-talking 1.5 year-old who actually sleeps through the night, a.k.a. the “Sly Fox”.  

Please.  You better challenge yourself.  Slip one past the goalie and go for the third.  Why not?  This has been too easy.  Besides, why would you only want two kids taking shots at you when you’re 60?  Three will undoubtedly be much more interesting.