So. I've decided that no one who already has three children is allowed to have ANY MORE. Or at least, if they do, they're not allowed to tell me about it.
Because really, people. I'm done. I'm DONE, I tell you!
Seriously, have you noticed all the people getting pregnant with their fourth lately? SouleMama, for one. She gives me morning sickness just watching her do it so beautifully. And then there's Jessica, whose sickness was so bad, I was grateful it was her and not me. Until recently, when she started sewing adorable girly things again. Darn you, Jessica!
And now Heather, too?! Come on, you already have three girls! And a teeny tiny little apartment. Thanks for making me feel bad for making excuses that we don't have room for a fourth.
How are you people planning to pay for college, anyway??
It's not my fault. Do you know how hard I had to work to convince UberDad that we should have a third?! It took months and months! He was not anxious to begin another round of "Mommy won't get off the couch and we're hungry, Daddy."
I was a nightmare. Postpartum depression for most of the first year. The baby who wouldn't nurse anywhere but lying in bed. The baby who cried for six weeks straight.
And now he's so cute.
I can't blame Scott. He has one sibling. He never expected to have more than two kids. He hoped one of them would be a girl. He no longer believes we're capable of making girls.
And we're fine with that. Boys are awesome! They adore their mommies. They are constant entertainment. They don't have cat fights. I rarely have to brush their hair. No weddings to be responsible for. No teenage girl hormones. No tea parties. No pretty dresses to sew.
It's okay. I'm expecting granddaughters. I'll have more time for sewing then anyway.