Children vs time.

I was on the train and there was this spunky 5 year old who got on with her father. She had a lot of words and sat down in the handy-cap spot next to the call button. She enthusiastically asked he father questions about the button, what it did, what was written above it and why it was there. She was so lovely. He fathers response each time was sharp, bitter, snapping and mean. More often than not, he just told her to shut up. But in her wisdom, or oblivion, she continued to drown him with her inquisitiveness. Her relentlessness and resilience was both endearing and hopeful. I not sure she can keep it up till she can get away from her asshole of a father, but I hope so.

But she caught my eye because I have been thinking a lot about kids, who they become, how they change and how those changes challenge parents. When I think back to my life with D. as an infant, there were certainly "hard" parts. Sleep was challenging, and nursing, while lovely, was time consuming. Now that sleeping has recovered, and nursing is less frequent, I should have more time right? Nope. Now D-man is so mobile he takes a lot more monitoring. I think there is a curve, in a diagramatic sense, that is the relationship of the child's age to the mother's productivity. Not to say domestic labor is somehow unproductive - but I mean labor as in the money making, free-lancing, non domestic kind. I thought I would be at the "gets more done" stage when D. reached a year, but in fact I think it is still getting harder...

I am also starting to have some stress about having another - or trying to. DH has a big project going on that is taking him to a different continent about ever other month. And since bedrest and toddlers don't really jive, our original plan to TTC in March has now shifted to August. If I were your average pregnant person, with average lady parts, this would not be a biggie. But after losses, a septum resection, issues in each trimester, incompetent cervix and months in bed... well, let's just say I am a little freaked. I keep wondering if the septum is really gone? I know that is nuts. But I really want to go in for my annual and ask my OB to do a quick U/S. I just want to make sure nothing is there.

And I am also pushing 35. After you have been burned my the miscarriage bug, you take nothing for granted. The older I get, the more risk. I am not stupid enough to think, "that would never happen to me." It could. And if we wait, and I get pregnant and carry to term, I'll be delivering around my 36 birthday. Ugh.

The other part is, I hate to say this, but we would love a big family. Like, at least 3. That alone would dictate a rapid fire schedule. Uuuuhhhh. Who knows what to do. It is a mess really. So I guess we'll just wait. Despite the fact that I'd rather not. We'll wait. We'll wait. And I'll just keep telling myself that everything will be ok.

Rarely writing, but I finally had a few things to say

It has been a wild week. There were countless, significant milestones I needed to mark... Here are just a few.

1.G from Makes you stronger stunned me, and herself and the rest of the blog-o-sphere with a viable, beating little bean at this weeks scan. Holy shit. Un-fucking-believable story. If I could have one single wish this year, it is for G to get her ass knocked up... and stay that way. At least for 9 months:)
2. The little D-man turned 1! Knock my fat ass over with a feather, has a year gone by already? I miss my little lump of mush, but also love watching him grow into a little person.
3. The boy said "Mama!" Two days after his birthday he started consistently saying it. Melt-worthy.
4. I did my first, paid workshop as part of our new start up (me and 5 friends.) Feels awesome to make some money outside of the academic crap-hole I have been sucked into.

Well, I have procrastinated long enough. I have a pound cake in the shape of a choo-choo-train to make and ice. The official birthday party is tomorrow.