Have you met Moo? I'm sure you have, because she is totally awesome. She's a part-time SAHM to a two-year-old boy down in Atalanta and is expecting #2 early this spring. Her blog, Moo's Moo is funny and witty and honest. She keeps it real, y'all, and that is my favorite thing about her. That and the DRAMA!
I'm very honored to have Moo here guesting today (as I've been honored to have all my guest posters), but Moo is especially special to me. Moo is one of the "ones" for me, as a blogger. She is one of the very first bloggers that I did not know in real life to put me in her blog roll, and as you other bloggers know, that's a big deal.
So, thanks, Moo! Love you!
I am "nosy."
I put nosy in quotes, because I think I'm less nosy and more ... well, let's say, "curious." I really want to know things about people. It was one of the biggest draws to psychology for me. I could ask as many nosy questions as I wanted to and -- get this! -- people would pay me for the privilege. It sounded perfect.
Then, of course, I am also bossy. I love telling people what to do. I think I'm right, all the time, even when I know I'm wrong. THAT trait is a problem, I must admit. It makes it difficult for me to swallow criticism, even constructive criticism, because HELLO, CORRECT HERE, ALL THE TIME. I've gotten better about it, I promise.
I'm not shy about asking people about their personal life. And along those lines, I'm not shy about sharing stuff about my life, either. Pretty much ask me and I'll tell you what's up. It sometimes surprises me that 1.) people are shy about asking what they want to know and 2.) people are surprised that I would share so many things about myself. It's the drama-queen-attention-whore-nosy-bitch syndrome, I think.
No one around here yet has asked me the million dollar question that I'm sure at least SOME of you have thought in your heads, so I'm just going to go ahead and get the answer out there, without waiting for someone to be brave enough to ask.
This is going to be our last child.
After bob is born, we are done. Physically, financially, emotionally ... I am done. Lots of times during this pregnancy, I've wondered what in the world I am doing. If I wouldn't be a better parent to only one child than to two or more. Even when trying to get pregnant, I wondered what it would be like if we only ever had Grayson. I read books on it. I solicited advice. I hemmed and hawed.
Ultimately, I am going to be happy with my decision to have a second child. But I may not feel that way for years and years ... or maybe I'll feel that way about 5 minutes after I give birth. Because I am contrary like that. (point being ... I have no expectations, one way or the other.)
PK recently asked me, since we don't know the sex of bob, "so if bob is a boy, then what?"
"What do you mean, 'then what?'" I asked.
"I mean," he clarified, "then we'll have another one ...?"
"You want another one after bob?" I asked. I confess, I could not keep the incredulity out of my voice.
"If bob's a boy," he began, "then what?" He totally sidestepped the question.
"If bob's a boy," I said firmly, "then we will have two boys. The end."
"But what about a girl?" he questioned hesitantly.
"If bob is a boy," I told him, "then we can talk about having a girl in four or five years. And then we will adopt so that we will be sure to have a girl."
"So, I guess this means you're done, huh?" he asked, laughing.
"Oh yes," I replied without hesitation. Then I paused. "Is that ok?"
"That's fine, dolly," he admitted. "I just wanted to know what the plan was. Because in my house, growing up, that would never fly." (PK is the oldest of four ... his parents kept having babies until his mom had a girl)
But see, here's the thing ... I would like a daughter. An adult daughter. And a tiny baby girl to dress up and do her hair and take her to dance classes. Everything in between those two times? I'm not interested. That high school bullshit? NOT INTERESTED. So it's safe to say that I would be OK if I had two boys. I might have a regret 20 years from now ... but in between now and then ... really. I'd be okay.
And I'm only 32. So I still have time to Change My Mind.
So now it's MY turn to be nosy ... how many kids did you think you wanted, and how many do you have? Is that OK? Is your partner on board with that plan? How did you know you were done? Have you ever regretted that decision?