Some days I wish we had more kids. And before you start in with the, “you’re still young” shit, I already know this. It’s not that I feel like I’m too old to have more children. Nor is my husband (even he thinks he is). I thought it was going to be extremely hard this last year to cool down the baby fever. We had a LOT of friends and people around us having babies. And oh my GOD, they are all the cutest little spawn I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Not to mention our own boys saying they want a little sister but would settle for a little brother.
I thought my ovaries were never going to stop fluttering.
But I’m so happy we decided against having more children. Yes, they’re a blessing. Yes they make the world a happier place. Yes, I’m still young enough and my uterus is still fully capable of carrying one, two, three, or Duggar-finite more children.
But we’re done.
You GO girlfran’s that keep popping out these adorable squishy little babes that I want to nibble on. You go on with your bad self. I will continue to enjoy sleeping through the night.
It’s more than that though. Our boys are at the most perfect age. Cash and I have an awesome bond right now. He’s old enough that he can ride all the stupid, fun rides (and loves them!). He’s old enough he gets my inside jokes. He’s old enough to hold a really long, decent, and sometimes smarter-than-I-am conversation about the world around us. But yet he’s still young enough that he goes out of his way to give me a hug and kiss when he sees me at his school and in front of all of his friends.
And Chris. Well … those of you that don’t know Chris are truly missing out. He’s so crazy. He’s sensitive and doesn’t like attention on himself. But he’s so silly that he brings the attention regardless. He’s defiant. He’s stubborn. He’s independent but helpless. He’s a mama’s boy and if you ever make her cry – well, you’ll receive the wrath of Krzysztof Maxwell. But oh my goodness, he’s a hoot!
Our family is at an awesome place right now. I don’t have to lock a carseat in the car carrier thingy. I don’t have to buckle seatbelts or push a stroller. I don’t have to pack a diaper bag let alone change diapers. I don’t have to throw my back out carrying a wailing toddler out of Target. I don’t have to change my clothes for the tenth time after being vomited on. I DON’T HAVE TO POTTY TRAIN ANYMORE!
And as I’m typing this I’ve come to the realization that I miss those things really bad. Okay, maybe not the vomit and potty training ones. But still. I blinked and all of those things were done. Over. Never going to happen again.
But that’s okay. I’ve raised two healthy (most of the time), happy (for the most part), well-behaved (that maybe stretching it), loving (always), little (for now) boys.
They’re best friends and in the Topinka house of boys … three would definitely be a crowd. Sorry little egg in the ovary that’ll never get the chance to hatch. Be thankful. You have NO idea what you’d walk (errrr… squirm) into. You have to hold your own in this house. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Plus, Cale and I would be outnumbered. That would be bad. Really bad.
I remember when I use to marvel at the thought that my husband and I created these tiny little human beings.
Now I just want to make sure that I’m not raising an asshole. Or a serial killer. And throwing another kiddo in the mix just means my odds would increase that I am.
So let’s all just be happy that the Topinka’s stopped at two. Mmmkay?
Life is good. Plus my local liquor store only carries so many bottles of wine.
But you’re more than welcome to bring your little sweeties over to our house anytime. Just know that I will not make them take a nap, I will feed them chocolate milk and skittles, and we will make the biggest mud pie you’ve ever seen.