Today's exciting topic is spacing of children. This is something that frequently keeps me up nights. Say it's three am or so, and I'll have just settled Eli back in his crib, or given up and settled him into his favorite spot, draped across my neck in our bed, and it will occur to me that it would be awfully hard to be doing this WHILE being pregnant.
I think Addy was just a few weeks older than Eli is now when I got pregnant with him, so this would be roughly the time to try again if we wanted to aim for identical spacing patterns. But she was such a good sleeper that issues of bringing her into my bed at three in the morning maybe cropped up once a month, rather than once or twice (or every single night) a week like with Eli. And also there was just ONE of her. One of her, who napped reliably at least once a day and was kind of on the quiet, well-behaved side. (This is no longer the case, but darn it was luxurious while it lasted. Now it's all three-going-on-thirteen, hands on hips, ordering Mommy to the time out chair. While still refusing to go near the big girl potty. Yee-haw!)
I think about and waffle on this subject every. single. day. Part of me still really, really wants a big family, and wants kids approximately two years apart so they're close enough to be playmates and friends. Another part of me wants to perform my own lobotomy if I hear that familiar, swiftly escalating cacophony of tandem whining and screaming one more time. It's like some twisted, nursery school take on the dueling pianos concept so popular at dive bars.
Also, it amazes and frightens me how quickly I can go from thinking, "Look at the two little honeys! I must make MORE of them, right now!" to "Let's BOTH have sterilization procedures just to make sure, okay?" Surely such wildly shifting emotions cannot be trusted? I should probably put any decision making on hold until I can at least make it through a full day of feeling one way or the other.
Or... Does that day never come?