Its been a while since I've had the opportunity to blog. I kept saying soon and tomorrow but lately I haven't been able to drag my behind up to do much other than work and sleep... oh and yell at the kids. It wouldn't be life as usual if that wasn't part of it. And of course, toss in the part where you feel absolutely terrible because you know that all the experts say that you shouldn't let your anger get the best of you. Raise your hand if you're one of those moms that wonder if the experts that write this ish have kids and if they really practice what they preach.
Well anyway, the reason I've been so tired is because I am expecting baby number three. If I'm honest, I have to admit that the plan was to stick at number two, but sometimes life throws these little curve balls and instead of ducking, I raise my hand and like an expert, I try to catch them. Well, this time I got knocked flat on my ass.
Once I got past the initial shock and revelation that another baby was coming, I started thinking about how to go about sharing the news. To be more precise, I started thinking about the type of reactions I was going to get - reactions ranging from congratulations and the 'just how old or you' questions, to comments like 'again?' Yeah, I didn't feel like dealing with it. In fact, I haven't dealt with it. I haven't even told some of my closest friends yet and I'm already halfway through this journey. Plus, I distinctly remember a conversation last year between my boys where the two of them were quietly laughing at me and saying, 'Jay, you know mummy couldn't handle another one of we'. #SMH. Now the two of them are laying in wait and plotting my further demise once the other partner arrives to complete the terrible trio.
Did I mention that my husband has been praying for a girl this time around? I've told him having a girl won't make any difference with those two ruffian boys she'll have for brothers to inspire her into mischief. But, what can I say? He has always wanted a girl and he seems to have a mental image of a sweet, dainty, perfect miss. I actually doubled over and laughed at him. First: is he acquainted with our boys? And second: I've never been very dainty, although I'm very bookish. When my brothers and sisters and I were growing up, we played cricket with a ball and sticks and fooled around with our father's tools, though I doubt some of them can remember it. My sisters and I made mud coffee and grass soup in our backyard. Once, my older brother got it into his head to teach himself martial arts and since I was the youngest of us girls, he instructed me to jump on his back. I got so good at it that I would hide in the bedroom and ambush him as he passed. I guess you could say that pretty old pretty fast - at least for him.
It isn't that I'm expecting this new child be a holy terror or anything of the sort, but rather, I'm trying to keep an open mind and be realistic. I'd rather prepare myself for a handful and get a sweet bread than expect a quiet little angel and get the mouthy, little bowl of sunshine who will control everyone with its little finger. Dear Lord, give me strength. I don't think I'm ready for this.
Allison is mother to two active boys who challenge her on a day to day basis with their escapades. In her other life, Allison juggles a regular day job as a marketing executive in a health food organization. At night, when everyone is asleep, she dreams of being a fulltime writer and super hero.