What’s Your Number?
Is it 1?
Or even 20?
My number is two: that’s how many kiddos we decided to bring into our home sweet home.
It wasn’t an easy decision, this simple little number.
My husband, the baby with two older siblings, only wanted one. All he seemed to remember from his childhood was the trauma induced by his older siblings. I repeatedly told him he was lucky to have siblings, and that I would have given anything to have a playmate, even if they picked on me.
As an only child, I knew deep down there was no way my first born would succumb to my “only lonely” fate. Sure, being an only child had its perks. Like all the Barbies I could have ever wanted, the uber-expensive prom dress, and a shiny FORD Tempo that I could call my own.
But you know what? I would have traded my Barbie convertible, the sequined prom dress, and that shiny car for a brother or a sister.
I know you don’t believe me, but I would have. Truly.
My entire life I’ve been alone. No built-in playmate, no one to share my secrets or dreams, no one who would have my back. Often I would play it off, but it really hits you once you are older. When you get married and there are no siblings by your side on your wedding day. Or when you have to say goodbye to a parent, and cope with the loss while handling everything on your own.
That is why, when my oldest was three I had a heart-to-heart with the hubs and he agreed to add one more to our little family.
At 6 and 3, these two boys keep us on our toes, and when his little brother invades his personal space I remind my eldest to “Be thankful for your brother, he’s the only one you got, and you are lucky to have him.”
Sure, there are moments when I walk by the itty-bitty onesies at Target and my uterus aches a little, and for a split second I think, “oh, one more would be nice.”
But then I quickly snap out of it and realize two is enough for our little household, because I know I will most certainly have another boy, and I’m already out-numbered. That, and the fact that unless the cat can grow thumbs and care for children, three kids would exceed the parent-to-child ratio, which means there would always be one child running amuck.
So two it is, and two it will be.
What’s your number? And why?