At work last week, I was talking with a customer about our mutual urge to have another baby. I gather it's a common problem for those of us with older kids.
She said to me, 'Every time I think I want another baby, I tell myself I should just stay awake for three days straight to be reminded of what it was like.'
So true. I told her I would keep that in mind.
So when I got a call from a sick friend at 2 am the other day, with a desperate plea to pick up her toddler and three month old, it was sort of a trial run of what it might be like to have a baby again.
I slept in twenty minute bursts between, between replacing a missing soother in a sleeping baby's mouth. I got up to mix formula while the baby screamed. Our final wake up was at about 6:30 am.
I looked at myself in the mirror, and marvelled at the puffy eyes and sleepy face. I figured that is what I must have looked like for three years straight when the boys were babies.
I took the baby to work, and left Steve with the toddler and our two boys. He spent the day back and forth from the park, and running interference between the older kids. The toddler was great – she listened to directions, and even napped.
At work, the baby cooed at customers, hung out with me at the cash desk, and generally won people over. Until he got sleepy. Right when the store got busy. I bounced and shushed him in between helping customers. He'd get to sleep, but the next conversation with a customer would wake him up. I was so relieved when a friend came by and offered to take him home with her until I was finished work.
At the end of the day, Steve was exhausted, and so I was I. Oddly, I still have that urge for another baby. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.