Hello all! Hope you had a great Valentine’s/Carnival weekend. I hate carnival myself and don’t really think much of Valentine’s day. I hate being told what to do and don’t feel any more loving on the 14th of February just because the calendar tells me to. I did enjoy the weekend, however. I got to spend some much needed alone time with The Man and quality time with Munchkin. I also got to meet my dearest friends, whom I don’t see nearly as much as I’d like to anymore.
I was going to write something totally unrelated, but I must write about babies. Yes, babies. Munchkin had a friend’s party this afternoon and one of the fellow mums waiting outside was a dear childhood friend of mine. We had lost touch during our teens and found each other again when both of us had moved back to the tiny island, both single mums. Coincidentally, we both got married recently, both of us to men who are not our children’s biological fathers and both of us couldn’t be happier. Or could we? Well, the second she saw me she pulled me to the side and whispered “Guess what? I’m pregnant!”. I hope I didn’t hurt her with my hug but I was overjoyed by the news. It’s always great news when someone is expecting, but to know that this particular friend was pregnant felt different. I was beyond happy. I was…hopeful? I don’t know what’s happening to me recently but my ovaries seem to have taken on a life of their own. When Munchkin was a baby I was desperate for another child. I was single then and there was no way I could possibly get pregnant and maybe that’s the reason I wanted it so badly. The possibility of it ever happening was so remote at the time that I felt safe hoping I’d have another one. Then Munchkin turned two and the tantrums started and they were bad. Talk about Terrible Twos…it was the Terrible Twos, Threes and almost Fours. She has changed a lot and has largely grown out of her tantrums. I have changed a lot too, thanks to The Man. It’s hard coping with a screaming (and gagging) child when there are two loving grandparents two metres away showering her with attention when it’s needed the least. Now I feel more confident and know how to handle her and her temper a little better. Living in our own house helps. So, I was saying that I wanted a baby but then Munchkin hit two and I changed my mind very quickly. Now it’s a matter of having settled with the routine and dynamics that come with having one child. It’s become much easier now and I finally feel like I am in (some sort of) control. But these past few weeks things started changing. I keep finding out about friends having their second (or third) child and even a lot of the bloggers I follow are pregnant! Then the news of my friend…
What’s so different about my friend’s pregnancy is that it feels like it could happen to me. We grew up together (and always resembled each other a lot), got separated by circumstances and yet found ourselves in almost the same situation many years later. Now she’s pregnant…where does that leave me? I don’t really know. In our living room writing about her I guess. I do want to have at least another child with The Man. I dream of a little boy with his blue eyes and curly hair. I want Munchkin to have siblings (I am one of four and always assumed I’d have more than one child) and I am afraid of my hopes being shattered if we leave it too long. At the same time, we’ve only been married four months and haven’t even been together two years in total. Not that all this really matters but what if it proved to be too much pressure on our relationship? Would we cope financially? Will we ever feel ready for another child? Aaarghhh!! I’m driving myself crazy with all these thoughts so I’m going to stop.
On a different note, tomorrow Lent starts. I’ve never been one for denying myself sweets or treats just because it’s Lent. I should, because that would really be a sacrifice but I never do because it’s too ‘obvious’. Almost every person I know does the same thing and it’s assumed that all good Catholics go off sweets for those forty days. I won’t do that, but I will try to deny myself the one thing which seems to give me the most pleasure (it’s actually the only thing that gives me pleasure) while I’m at work. Yes, you’ve guessed it. It’s Godwin’s hot chocolate I’ll try to do without…my body’s showing signs of withdrawal at the very thought!